


The Ghosts of War Will Never Rest

by itislacey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Marvel - Freeform, PTSD, Peter Parker - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spoilers, The Avengers - Freeform, Tony Stark Has A Heart, but my boi isn't dead, obviously this is my made up ending after infinity war, so dont read if you haven't seen the movie, so eat shit thanos, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-19 09:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itislacey/pseuds/itislacey
Summary: After the snap of Thanos's fingers, half of Earth's population was wiped out. After everyone lost the people they loved the most, The Avenger's vowed to stop him once and for all, and do what they do best - avenge. But no one could have anticipated the outcome of killing Thanos, and destroying the Infinity Stones to avoid something like this happening ever again, would restore the lives of everyone that was lost.When Peter wakes up on the cool ground in a park nearby his house, with vague memories of what happened, he sets out to find Tony Stark - and the rest of the avengers - to help recount what, exactly, happened on the battlefield. But as time goes on and memories break through the wall his mind inadvertently created, Peter learns that the war was not so easily won. Not without great sacrifice.Now Peter must learn how to cope with his anxiety and nightmares, all while going to school and still being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man his city needs him to be. But some things are easier said than done. And with the help of his mentor and friends, Peter learns that everyone has their ghosts. You just have to learn how to live with them and not join them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo. It's been a LONG, long while since I wrote a lengthy fic, but I saw Infinity War not too long ago and now . . . I need an outlet to cope :') So here's a fic that came into my head after watching that movie because I refuse to believe any of those people are actually gone. Especially our SpiderKid :( 
> 
> This fic will contain PTSD and nightmares and anxiety/panic attacks, so if those things bother you, please use caution. This first chapter contains none of that, but the later ones will. I'll put a warning in the notes before the chapters any of those things are in! 
> 
> There will be no certain days this fic updates, it'll just be random. But know that it won't be, like, weeks without another chapter. Chances are I'll post chapters within a few days of one, if not less. I have no chill when it comes to consistency. Please let me know if you would like more of this story! And if you have any ideas you would like for me to include, please feel free to comment!

Confused. Lost. Disoriented. 

Only two of those things were something Peter Parker never quite felt. Not until this moment in time. 

He opened his eyes slowly, the bright burning of the sun preventing him from opening them fully. Peter rolled over on his side, feeling the cool grass brush against his cheek. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the outdoors. 

“Oh,  _ God,”  _ he groaned. Peter was sore. All over, his limbs ached and his head pounded, but a part of him felt different. Wrong. 

Peter looked down at himself, noticing he was wearing his suit. His  _ new  _ suit, to be exact. But that’s funny, considering he never remembered getting it from Mr. Stark. In fact, he remembered turning him down for the time being, deciding to stay the friendly neighborhood Spider-man Mr. Stark so desperately wanted him to be. So  _ why  _ was he wearing this high tech suit?  

He sat up, placing one hand on his throbbing head. He hadn’t hurt this badly since before he got his spider powers. 

Looking around, he could see people frantically running all over the place. Some were hugging others, crying, while others appeared to be searching. Hoping. 

It was then he realized he wasn’t wearing his mask. How many people had seen him like this!? Knew he was Spider-Man? 

“Karen?” Peter asked frantically. “I need my mask on.”

“Sure thing,” Karen replied, sounding different than Peter remembered. Nevertheless, his mask came over his head, causing him to gasp. Since when did his suit do that!?

Oh, right. Since he wasn’t wearing his original suit. 

Peter stood up on shaky legs, trying to get his blood flowing. He was still trying to figure out what was going on, so for the time being, he climbed up into the nearest tree, getting a good vantage point. He supposed he could have shot up to a tall building to look around, but he was trying to remain unseen. He needed to know what was going on first before he started webbing through the city, causing people to cry out after him. Because if someone asked for his help, he wasn’t going to be able to turn it down. 

From his point in the tree, it looked like more of the same of what he saw while laying on the grass. People were . . . reuniting?

“Karen, what’s going on?” 

“It appears that citizens are finding their loved ones again,” she supplied. “The war must be over.”

“The . . . war?” Peter wracked his brain for information on this war. 

“The war with Thanos.”

_ Thanos.  _

The name caused a splitting pain to shoot through Peter’s skull, making him lose balance in the tree. His foot slipped from the branch and down he went, hitting more limbs on his way to the grass. He landed with a hard thud, the breath whooshing right out of him.

He stared up at the blue sky through the leaves of the tree. 

_ Thanos. _

How could he forget about  _ him?  _ The man whose plan was to purge half of Earth. 

“Karen?” Peter asked, his voice a bit shaky. “Did Thanos . . . win?” 

“Hmm, I seem to have no recorded data of what happened once Thanos snapped out of Mantis’s sleep trance due to Quill. Everything after that is corrupted.” 

What? Why couldn’t he remember anything? What the hell was going on? 

“Where am I?”

“I’ve pinged your location to conclude we are at the park two blocks away from your house.” 

_ My house? Aunt May!  _ “Oh, God, May.” Peter was up on his feet in seconds, racing through the park and towards his house. “Please be okay, please be okay,” he chanted over and over, using his web shooters to fly through the streets quicker. 

He landed on his building, finding that the window to his bedroom was still open, the curtains waving out in the breeze. He climbed through, not bothering to shut the window as he removed his mask and slung open his bedroom door, looking down the hall.

“May?” He called, rushing into the living room to find her on the couch, her eyes stained red. 

She looked up, her mouth slightly open. “Peter?” She shot off the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table to get to him. She threw her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she could as she cried into his shoulder. “Oh, Peter.” 

Peter couldn’t help it when tears of his own sprang to his eyes. She was okay. May was okay. He hugged her back with the same tightness, not daring to let go. 

“I was so worried,” May sobbed. “When you - When you didn’t come back with - Oh,  _ Peter.”  _

Peter let her hug him for as long as she needed, though the words she spoke echoed in his mind. 

_ When he didn’t come back with . . .  _

With who? And from where? He doesn’t remember leaving. He remembers being on a field trip with his class and then - 

And then that spaceship. Above the city. He was with that wizard guy. And Mr. Stark. 

_ Mr. Stark.  _

Peter pulled away reluctantly. “May,” he began nervously. “What’s going on?” 

May sniffled, wiping her nose on her arm. “I’m not sure even I can answer that, Peter. All I can say is that the city was attacked and you . . . You went with Tony and the others to stop whatever it was that was coming after us. You were gone for so long. So long, Peter. I tried calling Tony and anyone else who last saw you but I’ve had no luck. I was so scared I lost you.” She hugged him again, crying into his shoulder. 

“You didn’t, May. Not this time.” He felt odd saying that. That part of him that didn’t feel quite right still churned in his gut. 

“I hope not ever,” May whispered. “Don’t do this to me again.”

Peter knew he couldn’t promise that. There was no telling what his future as Spider-Man consisted of. He doubted it would be anything as big as Thanos, but he couldn’t promise that he would never be close to gone again. Even so, he promised May. It was the least he could do, considering even  _ he  _ couldn’t remember all of what happened. 

“Alright, May. Alright.” 

May let go, looking Peter over. “Why don’t you get out of that suit? It’s been a long . . . few days.” 

As much as Peter wanted to take it off and slip right back into a normal routine with May, he couldn’t. “I have to find Mr. Stark. And the others.” Peter hated saying it as much as May hated to hear it. “I can’t just . . . sit at home and pretend everything is okay.” 

“Peter . . .”

“Please, May. The war is over.”  _ As far as I can tell.  _ “I’ll be okay. I’ll come back home in a few hours and we can eat and-”  _ Sleep.  _ Oh, God, sleep. Peter didn’t realize just how tired he actually felt. But that was probably due to the adrenaline rush he got when he was fully alert and realized May was probably worried to death. Now that he knew she was okay, he was wiped.

May bit her lower lip. “I don’t know, Peter. It’s crazy out there. It’s . . .”

“It’s always like it is. War or no war, New York isn’t exactly the most peaceful place on Earth.” He offered her a lopsided smile. “I’ll call you. Anything. Just let me go find Mr. Stark.” 

It wasn’t that Peter didn’t think Mr. Stark  _ wasn’t  _ okay, he was. Peter was sure of it. It was just that if he was last with Mr. Stark, and woke up without him . . . Well, Peter wanted to make sure Mr. Stark knew he was fine. Even though he was suffering with some weird amnesia. 

May hesitated. “Fine. You have three hours, Peter. If you’re not back in this house by then, you’re never allowed to leave again. I’ll take your suit and everything.”

After having his suit taken away once before, Peter wasn’t going to risk it. Especially not with May. “Deal.” 

They both hugged once again, neither of them quite ready to let go. It seemed that the both of them were traumatized these last few days. And they had to cling on to the only good thing that came out of it.

“I’ll see you in three hours,” Peter said. 

“I better,” May replied. 

Peter went back to his bedroom, pausing when he passed his mirror. He looked at his reflection, wondering if he really looked that bad. His eyes had bags under them, and he looked like he hadn’t eaten in  _ days.  _ Which was funny, because he didn’t feel hungry. Even now. 

The mask to his suit slipped over his head. “Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Can you call Mr. Stark?”

“Our comms seem to be offline. I have no connection to Mr. Stark. Or any of the Avengers.”

Huh. That was strange. The comms in his suit have never gone offline. Not even when Ned tried to deactivate them once. He couldn’t do it, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Can you at least tell me where any of them last were?” Peter asked, walking over to his window and looking outside. He expected the city to look worse, but then again, how could he expect it to look worse when he can barely even remember what happened to cause this? He could remember bits and pieces, but what he  _ did  _ remember, didn’t seem to take place here in Queens. Or upstate. 

“I can’t seem to ping their location, either,” Karen informed. 

“Then what good are you?!” Peter snapped. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Karen apologized. “Something interfered with most of my tech, not allowing me to get accurate readings of the past. If I had to take my best guess with all the information we have collected so far, something happened to you that also affected me.” 

Peter groaned. “Like what?”

“That I do not know. Perhaps if you find Mr. Stark, he will be of more assistance to you.” 

“I hope,” Peter mumbled. 

Where did he begin? New York was a big place, and going upstate to the compound would take up most of his three hours May gave him to find Mr. Stark. And if he couldn’t call him . . . 

Ugh! This was going to be a very short yet a very long three hours. 

Peter climbed out of his window, sticking to the bricks of the building. “I guess we’ll start with my last memory,” Peter huffed. “The city.” 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares in this chapter, so be warned! 
> 
> Also, I hope you like it so far :) Chapter 3 soon!

As Peter began his search for any of the avengers, he made sure to stay out of the public’s eye. He wanted to help anyone if they needed it, but not until he got to the bottom of what happened. To him and the rest of the world. 

He swung between buildings, making sure to stay close to the top or at the back of them, as most people seemed to be converging in the streets or main entrances to the businesses. 

This area of the city looked far more destroyed than any other, which led Peter to believe that  _ this  _ is where it all started. 

“Karen, do you know what happened here?” Maybe she could tell him  _ something  _ about what happened. 

“I believe this is where you encountered Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner with Dr. Strange”

“That’s way too many doctors to keep track of.” 

“I agree. But this is where it started.” 

Peter sighed. “But not where it ended. Great.” He supposed at least he had a starting point, if not anything else. 

He was about to think of his next plan of action when someone called his name from above. Or rather, said his name in a questionable tone.

“Peter?”

Peter looked up, squinting against the sunlight, despite still having his mask on. Out of everything this suit did, blocking out the UV rays from the sun wasn’t one of them. And here Peter thought Mr. Stark was supposed to be some kind of genius. 

“Peter, is that really you?”

Peter patted his hands across his body. “Uh, last I checked, yeah.” 

A bright, orange circle appeared in front of the man, quickly followed by another orange circle appearing in front of Peter. The man stepped into one and came out the other, causing Peter to be speechless. 

“It’s not anything you haven’t seen before,” the man said, a frown on his face. Peter got the feeling that this man frowned a lot. 

“Yeah, about that . . . I’m having a bit of trouble recalling what I’ve seen before, but I’m gonna guess and say  _ you’re  _ Dr. Strange?” 

The man nodded once. “The one and only.” 

So coming here helped out a lot more than Peter originally thought. “So you can help me find Mr. Stark? And the others?” 

Strange looked at Peter closely. “You said you can’t recall things?”

“Yeah? But what does that have to do with-”

“So you don’t remember what happened to you? To me?” 

Peter backed away from Strange’s scrutinizing face. “No, but I take it you do? Can you tell me? What happened, I mean? Last I remember, I was here and then I was-”

“Stop,” Strange held up a hand, silencing Peter. “You talk to quickly. Just . . . calm down for one second, okay?” 

“Fine,” Peter huffed. “But if you’re no help, then-”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” Strange said. “It’s that I’m not sure if I  _ should.” _

Peter stared at him. It was bad enough that Karen was no help, but now Strange wasn’t, either? Why did no one want to help him. “Why?”

“Some things are better left unknown, Peter. I think this is one of them.” A haunting look passed through the doctor’s eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“Okay . . .?” Peter trailed off. “But I still need to find Mr. Stark.” 

Strange sighed. “He moves too quickly for me to give you an accurate location. Last I know, he was seen around the park a few blocks away.” 

The same park where Peter woke up? What were the chances of that?

“But it’s probably safe to say he isn’t there anymore. I just know he’s in the city. Not really doing anything.” 

Peter found it hard to believe that Mr. Stark wasn’t doing anything but wandering aimlessly. Mr. Stark doesn’t do that. Peter, however . . . it would be more believable if that was said about  _ him.  _ “Thanks.” Even though Dr. Strange wasn’t much help, Peter thanked him anyway. Good manners and all that. 

“Peter?” Dr. Strange said. “I want you to know that I don’t think you should go looking for the past. Consider yourself blessed that you don’t remember it.” 

“Do you know what happened to me?” Peter asked. 

Strange ignored his question. “I know you have a hard time listening, but just this once, I think you should.” He moved his hands, creating a portal for himself. “If I ever see you again, I do hope it’s under good circumstances.” He walked through it without another word, vanishing. 

“What is going on?” Peter muttered to himself. Why did everything seem so . . . for lack of a better word,  _ strange?  _ He still felt off and now he had the doctor lecturing him and saying cryptic things. 

He didn’t really want to go back to the park. Not in his suit, anyway. He was tired of wearing his mask and since Karen was no help anyway, there was no point in wearing it. Even though he still had a couple hours and some minutes to spare, he decided to go home. Mr. Stark could wait until tomorrow, right? 

Peter was just so . . . tired, now that he thought on it. That weird feeling in his gut was heavy like lead, weighing him down. 

With a sigh, Peter began his trek home. Only this time, instead of breezing between buildings with his web shooters, he walked. Walked on the sidewalks full of debris. He saw numerous crushed cars and fallen light posts, making this area of the city look like a scene from a dystopia film. 

To Peter’s surprise, it seemed like this area of the city was pretty empty of people. He spotted a few inside buildings, none of which bothered to look his way. Which was fine by him. He was still in his Spider-Man suit and didn’t want to be caught anyway. 

Once he neared closer to the part of the city that wasn’t half destroyed, he then started using his web shooters to soar through the buildings. In no time, he was back home in his bedroom, peeling off his suit and changing into something more loose before going to hang out with May. 

“I’m back, May!” Peter called, pulling a shirt over his head. He left his bedroom, heading towards the living room, when he paused at the end of the hallway, seeing that May wasn’t alone. 

“Peter,” May sighed in relief. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” she added with bite in her tone. 

Peter could only guess that was meant for the guy standing next to her. 

“Kid?” 

“Mr. Stark?” 

The two stared at one another. Peter, who stared in confusion, and Tony Stark, who stared in disbelief.  

“Uh, not that I don’t mind you being in my house, but, uh, why are you here?” 

Tony looked taken aback by this. “Why am I here?” 

“Yeah?” Peter squeaked. 

“He was here trying to tell me that you-”

“No, wait,” Tony said, cutting May off. He left May’s side, walking across the open space between him and Peter, stopping when he was standing right in front of the kid. He looked like he had aged about five years. Bags were under his eyes, his beard hadn’t been neatly groomed in what looked like a while, and he wasn’t wearing his usual business suit attire. Instead, he was in a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt. 

Peter did his best to not shrink away from Tony, but the man was just too scrutinizing sometimes. “What’s going on?” 

Tony glanced back towards May, wondering how much he should say with her present. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up walking out of here with fresh bruises and a limp. That woman was scary. And very capable. “Why don’t you tell me what you remember?” Tony said carefully. 

Now Peter glanced at May. “Not - Not a whole lot,” Peter admitted. 

“He was looking for you, you know,” May chimed in. “Said he didn’t know where you were. I thought you were supposed to look out for him?” It was obvious that she was pissed. 

“I was - did. It’s hard to explain.” Tony reached out reluctantly, clasping his hand on Peter’s shoulder. At the touch, Tony’s shoulders sagged like the weight of the world had been lifted off them. “We need to have a serious talk,” Tony said lowly to Peter. “Like, now.”

“I’m not deaf,” May sad from behind him. 

“No, but this is classified Avengers talk. And last I checked, you weren’t on the team.” 

“And last I checked,” May fired back, “neither was Peter.” 

Peter groaned. Did she really have to remind him of that? 

“He is,” Tony assured. “I told him as much a few weeks ago.” 

Peter’s face lit up. “You did!?”

Tony shot him a glare.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. You did. Totally forgot.” Peter laughed nervously. “Guess I’m not surprised, considering it was the end of the world and all. Yeah. I’m an avenger.” 

_ Holy shit I’m an avenger!  _ Peter screamed in his head. Oh how he wished he could just scream and jump up and down. 

“Peter is staying home for the night,” May said. “I have been worried sick for  _ weeks,  _ Tony. Weeks! He went missing along with you, and-”

“Whoa, what?” Peter interrupted. “I’ve been . . . missing?” 

May and Tony studied Peter carefully, sparing glances at one another. 

“Kid,” Tony said slowly. Cautiously. 

“I’ve been missing for  _ weeks?”  _ Tears sprung in his eyes, but none of them fell. “What? I . . . How? How did I not . . .”

“It’s okay, Peter,” May said softly. 

“No, it’s not!” Peter snapped. “How do I not remember? How has it been weeks!?” His head was swimming. On top of feeling strange and being ungodly tired, this was only making it worse. 

Tony cleared his throat. “This is why we need to talk. Preferably at the compound. With the others. Lots to debrief on and all that.” 

“Peter is staying here,” May said hotly. “And that’s final. Talk to him tomorrow. Let the boy sleep.” 

Could this wait until tomorrow? Peter was missing  _ weeks  _ of his memory, so it seemed. And according to . . .  _ Dr. Strange.  _ He knew Peter was missing his memory, and yet he didn’t seem too concerned about it. In fact, he said Peter was  _ blessed  _ to not know. Does that mean Strange knew? Did he wish to forget? 

“I really think-”

“Damn it, Tony! Get out of my house!” May shouted. 

“We - We can talk tomorrow,” Peter told Tony. “Just . . . I need some sleep.”

May stormed over to the front door, swinging it open. “He said tomorrow, Tony. Goodbye.” 

Tony sighed. “Are you sure, kid?”

“Tony,” May warned. 

“If you need me before tomorrow,” Tony said to Peter, “you know where I’ll be.” 

Peter nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He watched Tony leave, May slamming the front door and locking it behind him.

“God. Did I ever tell you I am  _ not  _ a fan of that man?” May grunted, walking over to the couch and plopping down on it.

“Maybe once. Over dinner.” 

At the mention of dinner, May perked up. “Oh, God, when was the last time you ate?! We need to get you some food. Come on, let’s-”

“No, I’m fine, May. I’m actually not even hungry. I just want to sleep.” In truth, he was  _ starving.  _ But on top of that, he was  _ so  _ tired. And he rather just go to sleep and let his mind shut off for a while so he could process all of this later. And once he was rested . . .  _ then  _ he would talk to Mr. Stark. And get to the bottom of what happened. 

Unless he shouldn’t.

“Peter, please,” May begged. “Eat something. Anything.” 

With a sigh, Peter went to the kitchen and grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water. “I’m just trying to take it easy.” He ripped off the wrapper with his teeth, taking a huge bite out of the bar. “There. Better?”

May frowned. “As good as I’m going to get, I suppose.” 

Peter couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips. “I’m going to bed.” 

May walked over to Peter, pulling him in for a hug. “I love you, Pete. I was so scared.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Peter said softly, hugging her back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I better.” 

Peter snorted. “You will.” He patted May on the back before pulling away and heading back to his bedroom, closing the door quietly. He demolished the rest of his granola bar and chugged his water, flopping down on his bed once he was done. Tiredness hit him like a freight train. 

He rolled onto his side, looking around his cluttered room. How could he have been gone all this time? And not even remember it? 

His eyelids grew heavy, and he didn’t try to fight it. He let the sleep wash over him, dragging him under. 

~~~

_ Gold.  _

_ The sky, the air, everything - was gold. _

_ Ruins and ruble coated the ground, parts of ships scattered about. This place looked like a wasteland. It looked . . . _

_ Destroyed.  _

_ Peter looked around, seeing nothing for miles. A world uninhabited for quite some time, it seemed.  _

_ “And I’m telling you, that plan is stupid,” the familiar voice of Tony Stark rung out.  _

_ Peter turned on his heels, seeing Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange with a few people he didn’t quite recognize.  _

_ “Any plan is better than none!” one of the other said. “We pin him down and take the gauntlet off his arm. He is powerless without it.”  _

_ “He is also stronger than all of us combined, moron. How do you expect to just take it off his arm?”  _

_ “Strategic planning and magic,” Dr. Strange said. “We all need to work together for even having a chance at this working. And we need to plan fast. He’s coming.”  _

_ Peter stared at the group, confused yet . . . he felt like he’s seen this before. Somewhere.  _

_ “Kid,” Tony called. “Care to join the group discussion?”  _

_ “He has one good idea and now you want him to join another?” Strange scoffed.  _

_ “Hey, that idea saved your life,” Tony barked. “And I don’t think I ever heard a ‘thank you’ come out of your mouth for it.” Tony looked back at Peter. “Get over here, kid.”   _

_ “Yes, please, enlighten us with you pop culture references to devise a plan to kill a god!”  _

_ “He isn’t a god,” one of the others snapped. _

_ “Not yet anyway,” Strange muttered. _

_ Peter stood with the rest of the group, lost and confused. What plan were they talking about? When did Peter save that man’s life?  _

_ The scene shifted shortly after, this time, Peter was launching through the air, slamming into the metal ruins of destroyed spaceships. Pain radiated through his body, but he didn’t give up. His friends were dying. Or at the very least, going to if he didn’t help them. He flung through the air, catching everyone who was falling with his webs, helping them land on the ground with a much softer impact than what it would have originally been.  _

_ “Sorry I can’t remember anyone’s names!” Peter’s voice called out. “I got you! And you!”  _

_ Once everyone was on the ground, Peter’s legs felt shaky and weak. Tony was battling it out with-  _

_ Thanos.   _

_ Tony was using everything he had in his suit to try to take him out, but nothing seemed to phase him in the slightest. The man wasn’t even bruised or winded.  _

_ Minutes later, Peter’s head snapped around, just in time to see Thanos shove a large spear through Tony’s side. Peter was so shocked, he had no words. No actions. He could do nothing but watch as the man who helped him with so much, get stabbed in the torso.  _

_ He was going to die.  _

_ And Peter did nothing to help.  _

_ Blood coated Mr. Stark’s teeth as he looked Thanos in the eye, fully ready for the weight of what just happened to him to sink in, when- _

Peter woke with a start, banging his head on the top bunk of his bed. He fell right back down, gasping for air. His body was drenched in sweat, as were his bed sheets. He had the urge to be sick, but nothing rose in his throat. That was probably due to the fact that he didn’t get sick like that anymore. Not since the bite. 

He dragged his hands down his face, sitting up slowly. The more he thought on it, the more real it seemed. Like he could recount every detail, every face. 

_ Thanos. _

_ Dr. Strange. _

_ Mr. Stark. _

But who were the others? He focused on the other man that was with them, his name breaking through the surface like a breath of fresh air.

_ Quill.  _

Or rather, Starlord. 

_ The Guardians.  _

Peter’s eyes opened wide. That wasn’t just a dream.

That was a memory. 

He thought that maybe now he should have gone with Tony. The others. But that dream didn’t say what happened to  _ him.  _ It only showed him a small portion of what was probably a bigger story. 

Peter climbed out of bed and went over to his window, sliding it open. The cool air from outside was a huge relief on his skin. He debated on calling Mr. Stark or even just going upstate now, but he couldn’t leave May here. He couldn’t leave and not say anything. 

But he didn’t want to go back to sleep, either. Not if it meant . . . seeing that again.

What good were his spidey senses if they weren’t going to tell him of danger? He could have saved Tony from getting stabbed. It was clear today that he was fine, but even so . . .

Peter padded softly back over to his bed and sat down. The clock next to his bed said it was only one in the morning, but there was no way in hell he was going back to sleep. 

So he sat there. Staring at the items in his room until the sun came up, only making the bags under his eyes worsen. Not that he paid attention. The only thing on his mind was that dream. That . . . memory. 

Perhaps Dr. Strange was right. Maybe Peter  _ shouldn’t  _ go digging up the past. Because if the past was anything like that one snippet his mind showed him . . . well, he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing anymore. Not now. Maybe not ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There shouldn't be anything triggering in here. Just working up to the good stuff :)

Peter sat across from May at the kitchen table, repeatedly stabbing his waffles with his fork. 

May watched him closely, swallowing the food in her mouth before saying, “You know, I think you’re supposed to bring the fork up to your lips after you stab the food onto it.” 

Peter set his fork down. “I guess I’m not really that hungry.” 

A frown formed on May’s face. “All you had before bed was a granola bar. And who knows the last time you ate before that? Don’t sit here and tell me you’re not hungry, because that’s a lie.”

As much as Peter hated to admit it, she was right. But he didn’t  _ feel  _ like eating. Which was unusual for him because he loved to eat. He thought some sleep would make that odd feeling in his gut go away, but it only seemed to get worse as time went on. A part of him still didn’t feel right. He felt so, so wrong. 

“Are you okay, Peter? I mean, really? Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Yeah.” The truth. Just . . . not what was considered a healthy amount of sleep. “I slept.” 

“But are you okay?” 

Peter shrugged. “I’m . . . not sure.” 

May looked at him, concerned. “Do you want to go see a doctor?”

“No! No, I mean, no, I don’t need a doctor.” The last thing anyone wanted was for a doctor to look at Peter’s blood. Or genes. Or really anything in him. It wasn’t typical human DNA. Not anymore. And Peter wasn’t trying to become some science experiment. “Just . . . I think if I talk to Mr. Stark, it would help.” 

May sighed. “So you  _ are  _ going to see him today?”

“I have to. He . . .” He what? “He can help more than a family doctor can.” 

May arched a brow. “He isn’t a doctor, sweetie. That man is a lot of things, but a professional medical specialist isn’t one.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Peter said, snorting softly. “I meant he can help fill in the gaps. He was there when . . .” Images of Peter’s dream flashed through his head. He shook them away, not wanting to think about what he saw. “When shit went down,” he finished.

“Watch your language,” May said firstly, “and if that’s really what you want, then I can’t stop you. I would rather you leave all of this behind, but if this will make you sleep at night and eat more than one bite of food a day, then I’m all for it. Just . . . please be careful, Peter.” 

“I will,” Peter promised. “I’ll be home for dinner.” 

“Dinner? You plan on staying there  _ all  _ day?” 

Peter shrugged. “I can’t imagine a debriefing this big will only take an hour. I was only saying I would be home for dinner at the latest.” He pushed the waffles on his plate around with a fork. 

“If you’re not home by dinner, Peter-”

“Then you can ground me for two weeks,” Peter finished in a joking tone. “Besides, it’s not like you won’t know where I’ll be if time slips away.” That odd feeling in his gut returned after saying those words. He ignored it. 

“It’ll be more than that, I assure you,” May said, finishing the last of her breakfast. 

“That’s hardly fair!” Peter pushed away from the table, getting out of his seat.

“And neither is life,” May replied. 

_ Normal.  _ This . . . This was normal. Peter finally felt like he did before the attack. Him and May having a meal together, talking about nothing important. This is what it felt like to not worry. Just for once. 

“Back by dinner!” May called out to Peter as he headed back towards his room. 

“I will be!” He peeled off his shirt, digging through the pile of clothes on his floor for something clean. Normally, he would just suit up an web his way to the compound, but for the first time since getting his spidey powers, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to wear his super awesome suit that Mr. Stark made for him, even if it  _ did  _ make life easier most days. No, for now, he just wanted to be a normal teen. Who took public transport to get where he was going. 

Peter barely made it to the bus stop before the bus left. He made it on, slightly out of breath as he made his way towards the only seat that was open. Plopping down with a sigh, he glanced out the window, ignoring the faint reflection that stared back at him. 

He couldn’t figure why he looked so . . . ragged. Surely losing  _ one  _ night of sleep wasn’t enough to make him look like that. He had plenty of sleepless nights before. 

Unfortunately, the bus wouldn’t take Peter all the way upstate to the compound, so he was going to have to walk a few miles from the last stop. 

He exited the bus with the rest of the passengers, watching them as they all walked the opposite way of him. No one spared him a second glance when he began his trek North, probably assuming he wouldn’t make it too far. 

The avengers compound was no secret, but it was definitely a place that not just anyone was welcome. And it was a place everyone knew not to fuck with. 

Peter wasn’t sure how many miles he walked until the compound came into view. The sun reflected off the many windows that lined the building, making Peter briefly wonder how planes and other aircraft landed safely here. 

He only made it a few more feet before a loud voice boomed through speakers Peter didn’t even know existed. 

“Stop where you are and state your name.” 

“Peter?” he said. Then added, “Parker. Peter Parker.” 

“Standby,” the voice said.

Confusion danced along Peter’s face. He looked around for the speakers the voice was coming out of, finding none. There were just trees. And fields. 

The ground beside him opened up, causing him to jump back. “Uh?” 

A small, hovering chair appeared, complete with a seat belt hanging off the side. “Please have a seat, Mr. Parker,” the voice said. “And I will carry you to the facility entrance.” 

“I can walk,” Peter said to the voice. “I’m good.” 

“Parker,” a different voice rang out through the speakers. “Quit offending me by not using my technology and sit on the damn chair.” 

Peter couldn’t help the small smile that tinged his lips at the sound of Mr. Stark’s voice. “I could web to the door quicker than this chair could carry me.” 

“Do you want to test that theory? Especially when you’re not even suited up?” 

“You can see me!? Where are these cameras? And speakers?” Peter looked around once more, finding nothing.

“It’s confidential. Now sit in the chair and get up here. We need to talk.” 

Peter was hesitant at first, but got in the chair no less. It zoomed him up the driveway, startling him a bit at how fast it actually was. It carried him all the way to the front doors where none other than Tony Stark was waiting. 

Tony walked forward, looking over Peter like he did last night. He reached out with both arms, placing both his hands on Peter’s shoulders. He couldn’t help it when he pulled the kid close, feeling the solid, realness of him. 

“Is this a hug?” Peter asked. “Because if it is, then-” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “No. It wasn’t a hug. It was me, checking to make sure you weren’t a hologram.” So much truth in one lie. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.

Peter was glad to see he was wearing his normal clothes. It unnerved him last night when he wore only joggers and a sweatshirt.  

“I assume we are on a time limit?” Tony asked.

“I have until dinner.” 

“Come with me.” Tony turned and headed back into the compound, Peter following closely behind. 

Peter looked around the facility, having only been in here once before. It still struck him with awe, despite nothing being new (with the exception of the chair thing that was in the ground outside, he had no idea that existed). 

The two stepped into an elevator, taking it three floors up. 

“Where are we going?” Peter asked nervously. 

“One of the conference rooms,” Tony replied, looking at something on his StarkPhone. “The others are waiting there.” 

Peter looked over at Tony. “Waiting? Was there a certain time I was supposed to be here? How did you know when I was coming? Have they been-”

“Kid,” Tony said, cutting him off with his raised hand. “Calm. As much as I would love to hear your voice nonstop right now, we have other business to discuss.” 

Peter deflated. “Like what?”

Tony opened his mouth to tell him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. It was clear the kid was going through some sort of . . . Hell, he didn’t even know. 

“Actually, no, never mind,” Peter said. “I have something to talk to  _ you  _ about.” 

At this, Tony arched a brow. “You do?”

“Yeah. I, uh-”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing the conference room in front of them. The wall was lined with windows, allowing Peter to see everyone inside. He had come across all the avengers before, but he had never actually spoken to them or even showed them who he was under his mask. The only people that knew were Tony, Strange, and . . . the Guardians. Everyone else knew Spider-Man. Not . . . Peter Parker. 

“Kid?” Tony prompted. “Are you going to finish your thought or keep me waiting in suspense?”

“It can wait.” 

Tony almost made Peter tell him anyway, but decided against it. “Then let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” He led Peter to the doors of the conference room, throwing them open dramatically.

“Is everything with you a theatrical performance?” Bruce Banner asked with a heavy sigh. 

“Since the day I was born, yes.” He stepped aside, gesturing for Peter to come in. 

Peter looked around the room nervously, feeling like his legs were going to give out from beneath him.  _ There’s nothing to worry about,  _ he told himself.  _ They’re just people like you.  _

“Who’s this?” Natasha asked, looking at Peter. 

“What? Is he hard to recognize without his red and blue suit?” Tony asked.

Someone choked on their drink from the back of the room. 

_ “That  _ is  _ Spider-Man?”  _ None other than Steve Rogers asked, setting down his glass of water. 

Natasha laughed loudly. “You were getting your ass handed to you by a kid! Oh, this is great.” 

“Let’s not forget who won that battle, okay?” Steve said defensively. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony said, putting a stop to their dispute. “What’s done is done. We have bigger things to worry about than that day.” And frankly, Tony would like to forget all about what happened in Germany. “Have a seat, kid.”

Peter sat down in the chair closest to him, which just so happened to be far away from everyone else. 

“I’m sure people at school don’t just call you Spider-Man,” Natasha said, talking to Peter again. “What’s your real name?” 

Peter tried to steadily say his name, but holy shit, he was talking to Black Widow. Face to face. As Peter Parker. Not Spider-Man. “Peter,” he said, his voice shaky.  

“Nice to formally meet you, Peter,” Natasha said gently. “Though, I will say that I wish  _ this  _ was our first meeting, rather than that shit show Tony dragged you into.” She glared daggers towards the name in question.

“What?” Tony asked.

“How are you just going to drag this boy to Germany and make him fight  _ our  _ battles?” she asked. “He’s too innocent to be corrupted by you.” 

Tony glanced between her and Peter. “That innocence is long gone, trust me.”

“What makes you say that?” Steve asked, looking at Tony.

“Considering he was with me when we went face to face with Thanos, I do believe his youth was drained away during that moment - along with any innocence he had left.” 

Peter wanted to tell them to stop talking about him as if he weren’t in the room, but he was left speechless by Tony’s comment. “So that was real?” he murmured. 

Tony’s head snapped in Peter’s direction. “So you  _ don’t  _ remember anything? It’s as I thought.” 

“No, I . . . I  _ do,  _ Just not . . .” 

“Everything?” Natasha supplied. 

“Right.” Peter deflated, slumping down in his seat. “I remember some stuff, like faces and . . . places. I also had this . . . dream last night, but I don’t think it was a dream. It felt real. Even long after I woke up, like I remember being there.” 

Everyone looked at one another, avoiding Peter’s gaze. 

“What’s the last thing you  _ do  _ remember, kid?” Tony asked, a look of panic on his face. 

Peter swallowed the rising lump in his throat. “You . . . Thanos stabbed you. I thought . . . I thought you were dead.” Tears threatened to pool in his eyes, but he would not cry here. Not in front of the avengers. 

“Is that it?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

Tony wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or not. “Why is that the one thing you remember? Just out of curiosity,” he clarified. A lot of shit went down that day. He found it odd that him getting stabbed was the only thing he remembered.

“Hold on,” Steve interrupted before Peter could say anything. “Thanos stabbed you? And you  _ lived?  _ Why didn’t you tell any of us that?” 

“Probably because that wasn’t the biggest thing on our plate,” Tony snapped back. “And I’m fine. It’s healed. Just a little scarring left behind to remind anyone it even happened.” As if he would be forgetting that anytime soon. 

“If I had to guess,” Bruce said, getting back on the topic, “I would say that Peter’s brain deemed the events of that day traumatic enough to inadvertently block them out. For the most part.” 

“Wh - What?” Peter stuttered. “But none of you seem to forget anything. Why was it more traumatic for me? Does this have anything to do with why I don’t feel right?” 

Everyone looked at him questionably. 

“What do you mean ‘don’t feel right’?” Tony asked.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. A part of me feels . . . foreign? And it’s not the spidey part of me, either.” 

“Bucky says the same thing,” Steve said solemnly. “Said he feels different. But he remembers what happened.” 

Peter was growing annoyed. “What is it that you aren’t telling me? What happened on Titan?” 

Tony looked at him in shock. “So you remember the planet we were on.” A statement. Not a question. 

Peter didn’t even realize what he said until Tony pointed it out. “Oh. I guess?”

“It’s slipping through the cracks,” Bruce said. “Your memory is coming back little by little.”

“Why did he even lose it in the first place?” Natasha asked. “Why didn’t anyone else?” 

Bruce scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know. Everyone’s bodies and brains are different. Especially Peter’s here. He can sense the presence of doom lurking. We cannot. Not physically, anyway.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Steve spoke up.

“It doesn’t have to,” Bruce replied. “I mean, look at me. I have an alter ego that smashes shit into next week. And look at you. You’re not an average human. Who are we to question Peter’s DNA?” 

Steve grumbled under his breath. 

“Anyway,” Bruce continued, looking at Peter. “Your memory may come back to you within time, or it may not. There’s no way to force it out, so you can either just forget about the past - which is the wise choice - or rely on what we tell you.” 

“Can you tell me what happened on Titan?” Peter asked. 

Bruce shook his head. “None of us even know for sure what happened on that planet. We were all on Earth while you were . . . wherever that place is. The only people who could tell you, exactly, what went down, aren’t even here. With the exception of Tony.” 

Peter looked over at Tony, waiting. 

Tony stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Kid . . . listen. What happened on Titan isn’t something I want to reminisce about. Ever. And I really don’t think you want to know, either. Not really.”

“I do,” Peter persisted. “I want to know why I don’t remember anything. And why I feel different than before.” 

“You ever hear the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss?’ I think this is a good time to apply that,” Tony suggested.  

Peter frowned. “It’s my life! Who are you to decide what I can and can’t know?” 

“Oh boy,” Natasha muttered. “Here we go.” 

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Tony said sternly. “I don’t want to talk about what happened on Titan. I would give anything to forget about it. Consider yourself lucky.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Is it really lucky to not know why you feel the way you feel? Why do I feel like a part of me is ill?” That was the best way he could describe it. Like he felt sick but fine at the same time.

“I think we can all sit here and say we feel ill after the shit that went down with Thanos.” 

“But you know why you feel ill! I don’t!” 

“Peter,” Natasha said. “Even though we weren’t there with you when . . . shit happened, we still know what Tony told us. And trust me, it is better to not know. This isn’t something you can just forget about in a few week’s time. Hell, it’s not something you’ll forget for the rest of your life. And you’re, what? Fifteen? Sixteen? Too young to carry knowledge like this on your shoulders. You  _ should  _ feel lucky you have the chance of being free of that weight.” 

Peter couldn’t believe this. Was it really so bad that no one wanted to tell him? “If my memory is coming back in small fragments anyway, why can’t you just tell me now?”  

“Your memory may not come back fully,” Bruce reminded. “And we don’t want to overload you. If you remember too much at once, it may not feel too hot on your body.” 

“He’s got like, ten PHD’s, kid. Listen to him,” Tony said.

“Whatever,” Peter grumbled. 

“It’s not ten, it’s-”

“Unimportant,” Tony said dismissively. 

“Then what was the point of this talk if all you were going to do is tell me why we  _ shouldn’t  _ talk?” Peter asked.

Tony shrugged. “We just wanted to see what you knew.” 

“Not shit,” Peter snapped. “Because no one will tell me.” 

The vein in Tony’s forehead popped out. “You will thank us one day, kid.”

“I’m doubtful.” 

Steve sighed. “Just tell the kid, Tony. It’s what he wants.”

“Just because it’s what he wants, doesn’t mean that’s what’s good for him,” Tony replied.

“Who are you to decide what’s good for him?” Steve stood from his chair. “He has a right to know.”

“So?”

Steve scoffed. “Really? That’s all you have to say? The kid seems more mature than you.” He made his way to the door, swinging it open. “Whenever you have something of value to share, let me know.” The door swung shut after him, immersing the room in a heavy silence. 

“I need a drink,” Natasha announced, getting up as well. “Anyone else?” 

“Me,” Bruce said, following suit. 

The two of them left, leaving Peter alone with Tony. Neither was sure what to say. It was clear they were both fuming, but for completely different reasons.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter began, “I just . . . I don’t want to make you relive the past if it was that horrible but it’s killing me not knowing what happened. I feel like a part of me is missing and I woke up without it. I feel like I’m a ghost.” 

Tony went unusually still. Perhaps Peter  _does_ have the right to know. Who was Tony to deny Peter things regarding his own life? It wasn't fair to him. Even if he didn't want the kid to know what happened. And even if Tony never wanted to repeat the words out loud ever again . . . It didn't matter. You can try to forget the past but the past won't forget you. “Is that what it feels like, then?” he ended up saying. 

“What?” Peter asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Tony turned towards Peter, removing the pair of shades he always wore. “What happened on Titan.”

“Which was what, Mr. Stark? Because I’m still-”

“I watched you die, kid,” Tony whispered. “I watched you vanish into nothing. Like you never existed at all.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nightmares and the beginnings of PTSD and anxiety! Also a panic attack :(
> 
> also, if there's typos in this work, I don't really proof read and check for them . . . I just really don't ever feel like going back and reading what I wrote, as that is a writer's greatest curse. You will always second guess it and never think it's good enough and constantly want to change it. And if I went back and read it, then there would never be updates XD so if there's some typos, I do apologize. I hope it's not anything huge. Just some missing letters or accidental uses of words ending in "ing" or "ly" when describing actions.

Peter wasn’t sure he was breathing. He couldn’t feel the air whooshing in and out of his lungs. 

The only sound he could hear was white noise as his mind tried to process the words Tony just said. 

How could he have  _ died?  _ He was here, in Mr. Stark’s compound, alive and breathing. How could he have died and mysteriously come back? That didn’t happen. He might live in a world where people - like him - have enhanced abilities or new abilities period, but dying and coming back to life was just . . . not real. No one could raise the dead.

Tony snapped his fingers in front of Peter’s face. “Kid? Hello?” 

Peter blinked slowly. “I’m not - I didn’t - I’m  _ here  _ and I’m  _ fine.  _ I’m not dead.” 

“Not anymore,” Tony corrected, sitting down in the chair across from Peter. “I’m not sure I have the answers as to why you’re back, but I can say that I am glad you are.” 

Mr. Stark was  _ glad  _ he wasn’t dead? The look of surprise must register on Peter’s face, as Tony then said, “I can’t have that on my conscious. It’s like I told you before.” 

Peter rolled his eyes.  _ Sure.  _ “How did I . . . die, then? If you can’t be sure how I came back, how did I die?” 

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “It’s a long story, kid. And I’m not going to lie, it’s not something I even really want to talk about. That day . . . That day was the most traumatic day I have ever head in my forty-seven years of living. Being kidnapped -  _ twice -  _ and watching Pepper nearly die doesn’t even compare to the events that unfolded that day. And the many after that,” he added.

“How long has it been?” Peter asked, choking on his words.  

“A couple weeks,” Tony replied. “I’m not sure of the exact count. Maybe three?” 

Three weeks. He’s been dead for three weeks, and never even knew it. May said . . .

Oh, God,  _ May.  _ Had she known he was dead? Did Tony tell her he was dead? Or just that he was missing? “What did you tell May?”

Tony looked up at him then. “I didn’t tell her you died, if that’s where your mind is heading. I said we got separated. It was . . . intense. But as time went on and you didn’t come home, she got suspicious. I was preparing to tell her what happened, but then people started reappearing. I held out hope that you would, too.” 

“There were others?” Peter asked.

Tony nodded once. “Barnes, Wanda, Vis, Wilson . . . Half our team, wiped out by the snap of Thanos’s fingers.” A shiver made its way up Tony’s spine at the thought. “Thanos wiped out fifty percent of Earth’s population. You were included in that percentage.” 

Peter’s throat was dry. He wanted to say Tony was lying. But that part of him, the part that didn’t feel quite right . . . Was this the reason for it? Truthfully, Tony would have no reason to lie. Not about something like this. And deep down, Peter knew what he was saying seemed right. Peter shook his head.

“Kid . . .”

“No, I didn’t die. I couldn’t have died,” Peter sputtered. “People don’t just die and come back, Mr. Stark. They don’t.” 

“In the normal world, yes,” Tony agreed. “But Thanos was hardly normal. And neither were the circumstances.” 

Still, Peter couldn’t wrap his head around it. He stood abruptly from his chair, nearly knocking it over. “I have to go.”

“Kid, wait,” Tony called, getting up from his own chair to chase after Peter. “Stop.”

Peter, still shaking his head, bolted down the hallway. He didn’t care if he was going the wrong way, he just needed  _ out.  _ He needed air. The walls were too close and the ceiling was too low. He needed to be free. He felt stuck and small, something he hadn’t felt since Toomes demolished that building on top of him.

His breathing grew erratic and labored, and if he didn’t get outside soon, he felt he might not breathe the fresh air ever again. The feeling inside him heightened, while images flashed in his mind. 

He could see that golden glow of Titan again, the rubble that littered the once beautiful planet. This time, apart from his dream, he could feel that feeling in his gut. He could feel his spidey senses warning him - no -  _ screaming  _ at him that something was coming. 

Peter stumbled in the hall, slamming his hand against the wall for support. He could see the hallway of the compound, but he could also see Titan overlapping it. The two were mixing, causing Peter so feel sick. A feeling he hadn’t had since he was bitten months ago. 

“Peter!?” someone shouted, their voice sounding far away. 

Peter leaned against the wall, turning on his back and sliding to the ground. He couldn’t  _ breathe.  _ Why couldn’t he  _ breathe!?  _

“Blood pressure is highly elevated and breathing is sporadic,” Friday’s voice rung out overhead. 

“Christ,” someone said. “What do we do?”

“May I suggest taking him outside?” Friday said. “That was where he was trying to go.” 

Strong arms slid under Peter, lifting him from the ground effortlessly. “I got him,” the voice said. “Tony, where it the nearest door outside?” 

_ Steve.  _

“We are on the third floor!” Tony snapped. “You’ll have to go to the roof or-”

That was all Steve needed to hear. He quickly stormed through the halls, finding the stairwell rather than the elevator, practically skipping eight steps as a time until he slammed through the door at the top, stumbling out onto the roof.

Peter felt the fresh air dance along his skin instantly, and he already felt worlds better. He let the fresh air fill his lungs as he pressed his head between his knees, trying to block out the images of Titan. 

More footsteps approached the roof, and Peter peeked up from his sitting position to see that Tony, Natasha, and Bruce joined him and Steve. 

Natasha stepped forward, crouching down to be level with Peter. “How are you feeling, kid?” 

“Like shit,” Peter replied, sucking in a large breath. “I don’t - I don’t know what - what  _ is -  _ happening.” He closed his eyes, trying to ground himself. He was on  _ Earth.  _ Not Titan. He hadn’t been there for quite some time. “I was seeing images. Of Titan. And it-” his voice wobbled- “mixed with where I was and I couldn’t tell if I was here or there. And I just felt . . . I felt . . .”

“Hey, don’t strain yourself,” Steve said. “If you aren’t ready to talk about it, maybe you shouldn’t.” 

Tony scoffed. “That’s wise advice, Rogers. Honestly. Maybe you should become a therapist.” 

Steve glared at him. “I’m only speaking from what I’ve seen,” he fired back. “Bucky isn’t quite the same, either. He’s haunted by what happened.” 

“I think we all are,” Bruce muttered, then added, “some more than others,” after receiving glares from three people on the roof. 

“Can you three shut up for a minute?” Natasha snapped. Her face softened when she looked back at Peter. “Just take it easy, yeah? You’re new to this.”

Peter looked up at her, blinking away the water in his eyes. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

Natasha smiled lazily. “We’ve all seen some shit. Experienced some shit. Nothing quite like . . . what you did, but still shit all the same. There are things we wish we could unsee, feelings we wish we could forget. But it doesn’t work like that. We’ve all had to learn to cope with the things that happened in our lives. Some of us have decades of shit we wish we could forget.” 

“Isn’t that the truth?” Steve grumbled. 

“But . . . I  _ died,”  _ Peter whispered. “And a part of me still feels like it’s . . .” 

“It’s what?” Tony cut in. 

How did he explain it? “I feel like I’m not wholly here. That a part of me is still wherever you go when you . . . pass on,” he said carefully. The term “die” made a part of him churn with nausea.  

“Hmm,” Bruce hummed. “Interesting.”

“Buck feels the same,” Steve informed. “Though he’s never elaborated as much as Pete here.” 

“It’s probably hard for him to,” Natasha replied. “That man has a lot of . . . issues to work through.” 

Peter sucked in a shaky breath. He felt strong enough again to unfurl his limbs and stand up. “I’m fine.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, kid,” Tony said. 

Peter doesn’t usually cast looks at Tony, but this time, he couldn’t help the glare he shot his way. “I said I’m fine. I just need time to deal.” 

“It’s not going to go away overnight,” Tony informed. “Trust me.”

“I never said it was.” God, why were they all so  _ hovering?  _ Especially Tony? “I want to be alone for a while. That’s all.”

Tony sighed, looking as if he was going to say something, but thought twice about it. Instead, he said, “Are you going home? I can arrange a car for you so you don’t have to walk and take the bus again.” 

Confusion replaced the sour look on Peter’s face. “How did you know I took the - never mind.” This was Tony Stark he was talking about. That man knew everything there ever was to know about one person, so Peter shouldn’t have been too surprised to know that he knew he took the bus. “Yeah, I’m going home.”

“Happy will take you there,” Tony said. “Come on.” 

Everyone shuffled after Tony off the roof and down the stairs, with Steve carefully placing the door back in a decent position. When he had burst through it, he quite literally  _ burst  _ through it. The metal door ripped from his hinges, barely hanging on by a thread.

“I can fix it,” he offered.

Tony waved his hand. “No need. Someone will be up here to repair it soon enough.” 

Natasha, Bruce, and Steve dispersed when they got back to the main floors, and Peter trailed silently after Tony. His mind was reeling. He still fully refused to believe he died and came back, but he knew it was true. He could feel it deep inside him, not to mention everyone that fought the battle that day knew about it. Tony was there. He  _ watched  _ it. 

He  _ watched  _ Peter crumble into nothing. Yet he seemed perfectly okay. Most of the time. Peter didn’t know whether he should be agitated or inspired that Tony Stark - of all people - could keep his cool about something so . . . awful. Peter had never witnessed anyone dying with his own eyes, but he thought that something like that would haunt him forever. So why is it that Tony didn’t seem haunted by Peter’s death? Is it because he came back?

“You should stop thinking so much,” Tony said, pushing through the front doors of the lobby entrance. “I don’t think Friday even thinks that much.” 

Peter looked up at him, squinting against the sunlight. “You shouldn’t insult her like that. You’ll hurt her feelings.” 

“She’s an AI. She doesn’t have feelings,” Tony replied dryly. 

“Karen does.”

Tony arched a brow. “Does she? Or do you think she does?” 

“She does.” Peter insisted.

“I programmed her. Why did I give your AI feelings and not mine?” 

Peter shrugged. “Guess you cared about Karen more than Friday.”

Tony opened his mouth to argue that was hardly the case, but he shut it quickly. He wasn’t quite ready to voice that it wasn’t the AI he cared so much about, rather than the one who would be using the AI. Either way, he never programmed them to have feelings. At least, not that he’s aware of. 

He led Peter to the black sedan in front of them, pulling open the door for him. “Here you are.” He stepped aside so Peter could get in, watching the kid as he did so. “Also, if you  _ do  _ find yourself wanting to talk about what happened, anyone in this compound would be more than happy to listen. None of us may be able to fully understand what you went through, but we can try to help. If you want it, that is.” 

Peter nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” the man grumbled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter asked.

“It means have a safe trip.” He slammed the car door shut, watching as it set off down the drive, back to Queens. He let out a loud sigh. 

“You okay, boss?” Friday asked overhead. 

“Far from it,” Tony muttered. “Far from it.”

~

Dinner was disgusting. But Peter had never enjoyed it as much as he did in that moment. 

“Talking to him seemed to have helped you,” May pointed out, looking at Peter’s half eaten meal. “Either that or you just really like my cooking.”

_ Or I’m just really hungry,  _ Peter thought to himself. Truthfully, he  _ was  _ hungry. Starving, actually. And it just so happened that May didn’t completely bomb this meal like she usually did the rest. So it was edible enough to sit well in Peter’s stomach. “Yeah, it did.” 

“So you  _ don’t  _ like my cooking?” May teased. Even she knew that her cooking skills were far from great most days. But at least she tried. 

“It’s - It’s good,” Peter stuttered.

“Next time we will get Thai. I’ll spare you.” 

“No, really, May, it’s good, it’s-”

“Peter.” May cut him off with a laugh. “I know my cooking sucks. And I know you eat it because you love me and don’t want to hurt my feelings. But sometimes, it’s okay to tell people how you really feel.”

Her words struck something deep inside him, but he chose to ignore it. “I’m serious.”

May shook her head, a smile still on her face. “And so am I.” 

Knowing this wasn’t an argument he was likely to win, Peter scarfed down the rest of his meal, and chugged the glass of water he had beside his plate. Despite eating a whole meal in under ten minutes, he still felt hungry. He blamed it on his spidey metabolism. However, he wasn’t sure he could stomach  _ two  _ helpings of May’s cooking in one night, so he settled for what he got. 

“Do you feel like watching a movie? I can get us some snacks from the bodega.” 

Peter shook his head. “I’m not really feeling up to it. I’m sorry.”

May set down her fork, a sad smile on her lips. “You don’t have to be sorry, Peter. I’m sure you’ve had a rough couple of weeks. I’m just glad to have you back in one piece.”

Was he back in one piece? He sure didn’t feel like it. He meant what he said - that he felt like a ghost. He felt caught between two worlds, unsure of which he really belonged in. Was he meant to come back? Was anyone? 

He thought that maybe - just maybe - if he went back to school and back to patrolling after it ended, he could get back into the swing of things. That maybe he could work off the feeling in his gut - the one that reminded him constantly of his unfortunate departure from the world. 

Yeah, that’s what he needed. Normalness.

“I think I’m going to turn in early,” Peter announced. “There’s school tomorrow.”

May choked on her food. “Your going to school?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? My attendance is already-”

“I don’t care about your attendance,” May said, cutting him off abruptly. “That was shot long ago around the time you went to D.C. What I care about is your wellbeing. Are you sure you’re up for school? You don’t have to go back until you’re ready. We can get your schoolwork sent here.”

“I’m ready,” Peter said confidently. “I want to get back to normal life. And school is the most normal thing for a sixteen year old, right?”

“Yes, but normal sixteen year olds don’t go missing and lose-”

“Then I’m going to school.” Peter grabbed his dirty plate and went to the kitchen to put it in the sink. “I’ll be fine, May. Promise.” 

May looked at him skeptically. “If you’re sure . . .”

“I’m sure.” 

Defeated, May sighed. “Fine. But if you feel like you aren’t ready when you’re there, just call-”

“I will, I will.” Peter went over to where she sat and leaned down to hug her. “I love you, May.”

May hugged him back, holding on tightly. “I love you, too, Peter.” 

~ 

Later that night, Peter was sure sleep wasn’t coming for him. 

He looked over at his clock, watching the minutes tick by. At about three in the morning, his eyes were finally droopy enough to close heavily, where sleep greeted him. 

_ Something felt wrong.  _

_ His body screamed in protest, urging Peter to run - to get out of there. Something was coming and it was coming fast.  _

_ “Mr. Stark?” _

_ There was a feeling in his gut, small as could be, but rapidly growing larger and larger, making him feel sick. A sensation he hadn’t felt since he was a normal human boy.  _

_ “I don’t - I don’t feel so good.” He stumbled as he walked towards Tony, tripping and nearly face planting onto the ground before Tony caught him.  _

_ “You’re okay,” Tony said, worry lacing his tone. He helped Peter onto the ground, looking him over closely. The worry lines on his forehead were so deep, it was a wonder his worry lines didn’t have worry lines.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Peter said, though for what, he wasn’t sure.  _

_ “No, kid-” _

_ The sensation in his gut exploded, his body telling him it was time. “I don’t wanna go.” Tears pooled in his vision as he looked up at the man he had been an important part of his life for these past few months. The one who had saved his ass more times than Peter could count. The one who had believed in him when no one else did. _

_ “I’m sorry,” Peter choked out, his tears finally spilling as his body let go, now being nothing but a whisper in the wind. He supposed that if this is how he went, being with Tony Stark wasn’t so bad. Because Peter believed in  _ him.  _ Mr. Stark would avenge him, right? That’s what he does. That’s who he is. _

_ An Avenger.  _

Peter woke with a sob caught in his throat, tears streaming down his face. 

_ Idon’twannagoIdon’twannagoIdon’t- _

“Peter!?” May shouted, kicking open his door. “Peter, are you - Oh,  _ Pete,”  _ May cried, rushing forward to envelope him in a hug. “You’re okay. You’re alright.” 

Peter clung on tightly to May, soaking the shoulder of her shirt with tears. He let his fingers feel her skin, briefly wondering if this was real.

If she was real.

“Honey,” May sniffled. “You’re okay, I promise. You’re home. You’re safe.”

Peter listened to her words, letting them instill in his bones. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder if what she said was true. He had  _ died  _ a few weeks ago, after all. 

If all it took was the snap of a man’s fingers to wipe him out, then how safe could he really be?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this is one of my favorite chapters. I love it so much and hope you do to <3
> 
> In this chapter, there's lots of anxiety and PTSD :( What happened on Titan is really starting to affect Peter's day to day life.
> 
> EDIT: Hi so I forgot an important part of this story and really don't want to rewrite it in here BUT I failed to mention that schools and business were closed once people starting ... vanishing into nothing. And about a week or so after, everything opened back up but people still weren't sure why a majority of people disappeared, they just know they vanished without a trace. Not that they were all actually dead :) so...the ones who were alive had no clue where the ones who disappeared went

Peter went to school, despite May’s protests. 

“Stay home,” she had said earlier that morning. “There is no rush to get back to school.”

After Peter had woken up from his nightmare - no, not nightmare -  _ flashback  _ (though, he supposed it could also double as a nightmare), he didn’t go back to sleep. He didn’t even try. That was the second time he had fallen asleep and got more than he bargained for. Peter wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t though the battle with Thanos had been  _ this  _ bad. Perhaps he should have listened to everyone when they said to leave the past right where it was - in the past. 

“I don’t want to stay home, May,” Peter whined. “I want - need - to get out. Do something normal.” 

May pressed her lips into a thin line. “I really rather you not.” 

“There’s a lot of things you rather I not do,” Peter laughed. “But I do them anyway.”

“I know, which is why I often question my parenting skills.” May had never wanted to be a mother, but when Peter’s parents died and he needed a place to live, she stepped up to the plate immediately. She loved Peter. Ever since he was a little baby, she absolutely adored him. He was a good baby, hardly ever cried. And he was such a polite boy. Smart, too. She often thought to herself that she really lucked out with him. 

Peter patted her on the shoulder. “You’re parenting skills are just fine, May. If they weren’t, how do you think I would be today?”

May arched a brow. “Running amuck and not listening to a damn word I say - oh, wait, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” 

“I’m listening to you,” Peter insisted.

“Yeah, by ‘listening’ you mean hearing the words that come out of my mouth. What you  _ do  _ is ignore them.”

Peter scoffed. “I at least take them into consideration.” 

May shook her head. “You must not consider them for very long.”

Oh, how right she was. 

“I want to go, May. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t.”  

May sighed, clearly losing this argument. “Okay. But if you don’t think you can make it through the whole day, you’re allowed to leave. No questions asked.” 

Peter wasn’t sure how much he believed that last part, but May typically wasn’t one to pester him about things until he answered. Occasionally she would persist, but she often knew when to quit. “Okay.”

And that was the last thing he said to her before he walked out the door, got on the bus, and stood before the looming building he now stared at.

Kids gave him odd looks as they passed by him, none of them daring to say anything. He wondered what they thought about his long term of absence, but as long as no one asked him, he would be fine.

“Hey, Penis Parker!” Flash’s voice called out from across the schoolyard. “Where have you been?!” 

So much for that. 

Peter ignored him, walking up the pathway and into the lobby of the school.Kids bumped his shoulders, some apologizing, some acting like he was the one in the way. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, going with the flow of the other students through the hall. 

“Peter!” an all too familiar voice rung out. “You’re back!” Ned pushed his way through the other kids until he was standing next to Peter at his locker. 

“I am,” Peter agreed.  _ In more ways than one,  _ a darker voice in the back of his mind said. He shook the thought away. 

“I was beginning to worry. Don’t you ever check your cell phone, man?” 

His cell phone? God, truth be told, Peter hadn’t even so much as  _ thought  _ of his cell phone since he woke up. He had been so lost and confused, it never crossed his mind to check it. Hell, he didn’t even know where it was. “I think I lost it.”

“Again? What, did you leave it in your bag in the alley? You know people steal your bags all the time. Why do you keep leaving it in there?” Ned asked.

Peter shrugged. “Beats me.” 

“Helpless,” Ned muttered. “You go this school for the genius and yet you don’t ever think about putting your cell phone somewhere safe. Yeesh.” 

“You’re starting to sound like my parent.” 

“I’m saying this as your guy in the chair. I’m supposed to keep you together.” 

_ What a bang up job you’re doing of that, Ned,  _ Peter thought to himself. “Well, when I get another phone, you can make sure I don’t lose that one.” 

_ “If  _ you get another phone,” Ned corrected. “Somehow I don’t think May will supply you with a third phone.”

“You’re probably right,” Peter concluded. May already had an issue with buying Peter his sixth backpack. 

_ How do you keep losing them?  _ She would demand.

_ Thieves,  _ Peter replied every time. And that seemed to be enough for her, since this was New York after all, and thieving wasn’t uncommon. Especially here in Queens. However, a cell phone was a different story. He could hardly tell May that he lost a second one. 

“Maybe Mr. Stark can give you one,” Ned said aimlessly. “I bet he could afford ten thousand of them.” 

Peter laughed, pulling books out of his bag and placing them in his locker. “He makes his own line of phones, Ned. I’m sure he could.” 

“Awe, even better!” Ned said excitedly. “He could give you a StarkPhone! I hear those things are amazing and can do just about anything.” 

“I’m not asking him for a StarkPhone.” 

“Why not?” Ned complained. “You could be the coolest one in this school. And by association with you, I could also be cool and we would finally not be the school losers anymore.” 

Peter stared at him. “You think having a cool phone would change our social status?”

“It’s not just a phone, it’s a StarkPhone,” Ned clarified. 

“So having a StarkPhone would make me cool, but knowing Tony Stark himself, doesn’t? I’m failing to see your reasoning here.” Peter slammed the locker door shut, twisting the knob out of habit.

“The difference is that people would believe you have a StarkPhone since you can show them. People don’t, exactly, believe you know or are friends with Tony Stark.” 

Peter sighed. “I wouldn’t really say we’re  _ friends.”  _

Ned shrugged. “You’re not enemies. And he  _ talks  _ to you. Therefor, you’re a friend.” 

That was the only bit of reasoning Peter could actually get behind. “If you say so.” 

The two walked to their first class, taking their normal seats in the back of the room. Ned got out all his supplies, while Peter just dropped his bag on the floor, staring at the chalkboard.

Ned looked over at him oddly. “Dude are you okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Peter stuttered. He pulled out his chair and sat down, taking a deep breath. For some reason, he didn’t think about what they would be learning today.  He had missed  _ weeks  _ of school. Weeks! How did he think he would just be able to come back and pick up where he left off? 

“Are you sure?” Ned prodded. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter lied. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. “Just . . . what are we learning about?” 

Ned snorted. “Hell if I know. Something about Quantum Mechanics and how they are applied to-”

Peter stopped listening. He never thought of himself as dumb or ignorant or anything of the sort. He could typically catch onto things quickly and learn something if he actually took the time to study, but having to jump right into the middle of . . . whatever the hell this was? He wasn’t sure he was up for it. 

May’s words briefly played in the back of his mind, and he wondered if maybe he should leave school and try again another day. But if he couldn’t handle something as mineal as school, then how could he expect everyone around him to believe him when he said he was fine? It was just school, after all. He could do this.

“You never did tell me where you’ve been,” Ned said, abruptly changing the topic. 

Peter snapped out of his trance, swallowing the rising lump in his throat. “What?” 

“Nobody’s heard from you in weeks, dude. Where have you been?” 

How could Peter answer that question when he didn’t even know himself? Saying he was . . . dead wasn’t exactly an option. 

“Was it official Avenger’s business?” Ned asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said. Technically not a lie. It  _ did  _ involve the Avengers. 

“Awe man, are you not allowed to tell me about it? Why is all the good stuff classified?” Ned slumped down in his seat. “You get to know all the cool stuff.”

Peter’s breathing grew heavy the more Ned talked on. He drummed his fingers on the desk, trying to think about anything that didn’t relate to Thanos or the Avengers. “Trust me, it was anything but cool.” Maybe if he responded blandly, Ned would stop talking about it.

Ned scoffed. “Anything to do with the Avengers is cool. I mean, they stopped New York from being torn apart by that alien spaceship or whatever it was! Which, speaking of, watching you climb out the bus window and swing through the beams of the bridge to get to it was awesome!”

“Mmm,” Peter hummed. His heart pounded in his chest, though he was unaware of just how hard it was beating. 

“No, seriously!” Ned persisted. “I’m not sure even I would have the balls to do that, even  _ with  _ spidey powers.” 

“Can you keep it down?” Peter hissed. “We aren’t the only one in the classroom, and talking about Spider-Man and the Avengers tends to draw attention if you’re loud enough.” 

Ned rolled his eyes. “Please. Everyone is too busy on their phones to bother paying any mind to a couple of losers in the back of the classroom.” 

Peter’s drumming on the desk grew quicker until he was practically drumming holes in the desk. 

“Uh, you might want to cool it,” Ned suggested, looking down at Peter’s fingers.

There were tiny dents in the desk from where his fingers kept tapping. “Shit,” Peter breathed. He couldn’t do this. He needed to get out of here. He reached down and grabbed his bag, standing up from his seat abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Ned called out after him, catching the attention of their classmates.

Peter didn’t so much as look back at him before exiting the room, quickly walking through the halls to get to the boys bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty, as the bell was about to ring to signal the beginning of they day.

He dropped his bag on the floor, turning on the sink and splashing cold water on his face. He let out a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves. His spidey senses didn’t alert him of any danger, so he knew any fears he had were all from the creation of his own, paranoid mind. 

_ You’re fine,  _ he told himself.  _ You’re in the boys bathroom at school. There’s nothing to worry about here.  _

He looked up in the mirror, nearly gasping at how horrible he looked. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His eyelids were droopy, and bags began to form underneath them, which he found odd, considering ever since the spider bite, his body didn’t do things like this. He was always so . . . fit and at the peak of health. Not . . . looking like he crawled out of a graveyard.

_ But I suppose I did,  _ the dark voice echoed in his mind.  _ You were dead. Gone. Now you’re practically a zombie.  _

No. Peter wasn’t a zombie. He was  _ Peter.  _ Alive and . . . here. 

Peter turned off the sink and scooped his bag up off the floor. He slung both straps over his shoulders, deciding he wasn’t going to stay here all day. He couldn’t. Not until he cleared his head.

He peeked out of the bathroom door, scanning for anyone who might see him. Thankfully the halls were empty as he slinked out of the bathroom and to the nearest door, practically running from the building as if it were on fire. 

He jumped over the tall gate with ease, jogging until he was in his favorite alley - a.k.a., the alley where all his personal belongings went missing. So really, he wasn’t sure why it was his favorite. 

Normally Peter would bust ass to shed off his clothes and get into his Spider-Man suit, but today he took his time. He neatly tucked his clothes into his bag, carefully sliding on the one piece. He held his mask in his hands, looking down at it with sad eyes. 

He fought in this suit.

Got hurt in this suit.

He died in this suit.

Would he feel the same once he put the mask on? Or would it only bring back every bad thing that happened in it?

Peter bit his lower lip. He could do this. Once he put the mask on and started patrolling, it would feel just like old times. He just had to get back into the swing of things, right?

Slowly, he slid the mask over his head, watching as everything came online. 

“Hello, Peter,” Karen greeted.

“Hey, Karen,” Peter greeted back. Yes. This was normal. 

“It’s quite early from your normal patrol time,” she informed. “Is everything okay?”

_ God.  _ Even the AI in his suit was asking him if he was okay. When does it end? “I’m fine,” he said for the umpteenth time in two days. “I needed a break from school. And I needed to do something normal.” 

“School is normal.” 

“I’m aware.” 

“Patrolling is not,” Karen replied.

“For me it is,” Peter shot back. Was he really arguing with an AI right now? “Forget it. Just . . . ugh.” 

“Your blood pressure is rather high. And your heart is working at a faster pace than normal. May I suggest meditating to calm your body before you strain it?” 

Meditating? Was she serious? “Karen, when have I ever meditated?”

“According to my data entries, never. But I have never had to suggest it to you, as you never needed to calm your nerves before a patrol.” 

“I’m not nervous,” Peter grunted.

“Upon evaluating your vitals and brain activity, your body suggests otherwise. You are nervous.” 

Peter clenched his fists. “Okay, fine! I’m nervous. So what? Am I not allowed to be nervous?” He kicked his bag out of frustration. 

“I was only recording and logging data like I am programmed to do. Any abnormalities in your normal routine are monitored and sent to Mr. Stark if it’s odd enough.” 

Peter nearly forgot about Mr. Stark’s stupid protocols and monitors. A part of him thought that maybe this new suit wouldn’t have such a thing, but it looks like he was wrong. “So he’s being notified that I’m nervous?” 

“No. He will only be notified if it is extreme. Being nervous is common among even the strongest heroes.” 

Not quite the pep talk Peter needed, but it was nice to hear all the same. “Alright.” He rolled his neck, working out the kinks. “Then let’s patrol.” 

~

For the first time, in what was probably a very long time, the crime rate in Queens was low. Peter blamed it on the fact that New York was recently visited by an otherworldly force, which undoubtedly scared half the people in the city from even leaving their homes. 

The most he did today was give directions and help an old lady carry her groceries to her second floor apartment. There was hardly any crime in those two things, but it still felt nice to help people out. 

He was walking along the edge to a particularly tall building when his ears perked up at the sound of a scream. He whipped his head in the direction of the sound, spotting a lady through a bank window, cowering behind her desk. 

_ Finally.  _

Peter activated his webshooters, and swung down from the building he was on. He landed in front of the doors to the bank, which appeared to be barricaded. Getting in would be no problem for someone like Peter. With his enhanced strength, he could push the doors and shove all the objects out of the way. 

Which is exactly what he did.

The sound of the desks screeched along the floor, drawing a lot of attention to the boy that was  moving them. Within seconds, he was inside, face to face with the man who was robbing the place. 

“Is there some book for robbers that states they  _ all  _ have to wear black ski masks to carry out a job?” Peter asked, slipping into his usual, witty self. He hadn’t even realized he’d done it. 

The robber looked him up and down, disgust clearly in his eyes. “You’re that spider vigilante.” 

“It’s ‘Spider-Man’ and I’m not a vigilante.”  _ I’m an Avenger, apparently.  _

The man scoffed. “Sure. And where have you been the past few weeks? Me and my men have racked up a lot of dough without you in the way.” 

Peter shrugged. “I took an extended vacation.”  _ Not by choice. _

“Well, here, let me give you another one,” the robber sneered, pulling out a gun from the waistband of his jeans, aiming it directly at Peter. 

Normally, Peter would shoot his webs at it quickly, pulling it from the man’s hands, but this time, he froze. Staring down the barrel of the gun made memories resurface.

_ How easy it is to actually die,  _ that dark voice said.  _ All it takes is the pull of a trigger aimed at the right spot, and BAM! Back to nothing you go. _

Everything happened in slow motion. The man’s finger pulled back on the trigger, the sound of the gun so deafening, there was hardly a sound anyone in the bank could hear. 

The silver bullet flew through the space between the robber and Peter, Peter barely having time to get out of the way before the bullet slammed into his forearm, destroying the skin and muscle.

He fell to the ground, blood soaking the sleeve of his suit. 

The man went to fire another shot, but the police had arrived and tackled him to the ground, kicking the man’s gun across the floor before he could pull the trigger for the second time.

Peter stared at the scene in front of him, frozen. His arm throbbed with pain, the bullet still deeply embedded in his arm. Blood still oozed from the wound, though Peter didn’t even feel it. From the shock or adrenaline from what just happened, he wasn’t sure. 

“Hey!” one of the officers shouted - have been shouting - at Peter for the last few seconds. “I asked if you were alright?”

That seemed to snap Peter out of his shock, as he looked up at the police man in front of him. “Oh, I’m g-good. I have to g-go,” he stuttered, quickly standing up, and for the first time, fully feeling the pain that his arm was in.

He let out a small cry in pain, pushing through it to stumble through the front doors of the bank, where a large crowd greeted him.

“Hey! It’s Spider-Man! He’s back!” someone yelled, causing everyone on the streets and sidewalks to let out cheers and roars. 

“Spider-Man!”

“Over here!”

“Thank you for stopping him!” 

People were shouting at Peter from every direction. Everything was so overwhelming. The attention, the pain in his arm. His enhanced senses kicked into overdrive, every noise and scream sounding more deafening than the last. 

Usually, Peter would stop and thank them and maybe even act a little arrogant (because face it, who  _ doesn’t  _ love being loved for saving the day? But even in this case, it was the police who saved the day, not him.) but he was too lost in his own mind to even stand there and act like he was okay, when he very clearly was not. 

He aimed at one of the further buildings away from everyone, shooting his webs at it and launching through the air, listening to everyone scream below him in awe.

When his feet touched the top of the building, he stumbled forwards, falling onto the hard surface. His breathing was erratic and choppy as he still clutched his arm with his hand.  Both were now covered in blood. 

“Shit.”

“Would you like me to call for assistance?” Karen asked.

“No! But I’m sure it won’t be long before you do, anyway,” he added, bite in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Karen apologized. “It is in my code to call for assistance under certain circumstances.” 

Peter grunted. “Can’t you just erase it or something? That code gets on my nerves.”

“Only Mr. Stark has authorization to erase my codes.”

“Of course he does,” Peter grunted. What was the point of this amazing new suit if he was still being babysat in it?

Peter removed his mask, letting the fresh air filter through his nose. He let out a sigh, removing his hand from his arm to assess the damage. It looked horrible with the suit on, but he was sure it wasn’t as bad as it seemed if he took it off. However, the bullet was still inside him, and he was going to have to dig it out before his body would begin to heal.

A few tears welled up in his eyes. How pathetic. He couldn’t even stop the typical bank robber without freezing in front of the gun like an idiot. That wasn’t even the first time someone had pointed a gun his way! 

But for the first time, it made Peter realize how  _ easy  _ it was to die. He may have super healing - or whatever you wanted to call it - but he wasn’t invincible. Even though a few months ago, he thought otherwise. 

The pain in his arm turned into a dull ache the more he got lost in his thoughts. He was supposed to be Spider-Man. He was supposed to save people. No one is supposed to get hurt. Yet people  _ watched  _ him freeze up and get shot. They  _ watched  _ him nearly die.  

Just like . . .

Peter couldn’t help the two tears that streamed down his cheeks. How could he be a hero and save the day when he could barely function through it himself? How was he supposed to be there for the little guys when he  _ was  _ a little guy? 

For the first time since getting his powers, he felt weak. He didn’t feel like Spider-Man. He felt like . . . a kid. Despite months of arguing otherwise.

Peter wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting on the roof. His arm quit bleeding as much as it had earlier, but blood still oozed from the wound peridodically. He felt light headed and dizzy, though he still remained seated on the rooftop. It wasn’t until a blast of thrusters snapped him from his daze, that he looked up and saw the Iron Man suit hovering a few feet in front of him.

He didn’t say anything.

“What? No snide remark about me showing up when you had everything under control?” Tony Stark’s voice asked, filtering through the suit. 

“Everything is under control,” Peter mumbled, looking over the edge of the building and down at the bank. “No one is hurt.” 

“I beg to differ.” The suit landed on the roof with a loud clang. 

Peter sighed. “It’s fine.” he moved his hand over the wound on his arm self-consciously. 

“If it was fine, I wouldn’t have received a notification saying it wasn’t.”

Peter looked up at him. “Are you here or are you there?” He was too used to Tony never actually being here, always opting to send the suit to Peter rather than come in it himself. At first, Peter disliked the fact that he couldn’t even bother to show up himself. But as time went on, he preferred it was easier when Tony wasn’t actually here to give him scrutinizing looks. Although, he had once joked that the face on the Iron Man suit was the perfect embodiment of Tony’s personality, and that didn’t go over too well. But it made Happy laugh, so Peter considered that a win.

“Does it matter?” Tony asked.

“It will help me decide my next words,” Peter replied.

The front of the suit opened, and out stepped Tony. “Well, I’m here, in the flesh, so decide your next words carefully when I ask you this: why are you bleeding out and why have you been bleeding out for two hours?”

Two hours!? He had been sitting here for that long? “I got shot,” Peter explained. 

When he didn’t continue, Tony said, “I recall me asking a second part to that question. And I believe it still needs an answer.” 

Peter sighed. “I have yet to dig the bullet out of my arm so it will heal.” 

Tony stared at him. “You have been sitting here for two hours with a bullet in your arm? What is wrong with you, kid?” 

_ More than I’d like to admit,  _ he thought to himself. “I’m lost in thought I guess.” 

If possible, the frown on Tony’s face deepened. “I want to say unbelievable, but coming from you, it’s very believable. Get up, we are going back to the compound.” 

Peter groaned. “But that’s so far.” 

“Kid, I refuse to dig a bullet out of your arm on a dirty rooftop in Queens. Now get up.” 

“I can dig it out myself,” Peter mumbled, standing up all the same.

“If that’s the case, then you would have done it two hours ago,” Tony replied with a scowl. 

“Like I said, lost in thought.” 

Tony hummed, not quite believing him. “Put your mask on. I’ll carry you.”

Peter’s face twisted. “That’s embarrassing. I’ll web there myself.”

“With one good arm? Unlikely. Put it on.”

“No.”

“Peter.”

Peter paused at the use of his real name. Tony hardly ever called him Peter. In fact, the last time he remembered being called something other than “kid” was when he was running out of air as he flew up into space on that ship when Tony called him “Pete.” 

“This isn’t a discussion. Or an argument. Those two things come later today, when the bullet is out of your arm and there’s not blood covering your skin.” 

“I have to say, Mr. Stark, I’m not really in the mood for discussing. Or . . . arguing.” 

Tony shrugged. “Too bad. When you skip school and get shot and do nothing about it for two hours, these are the consequences. It’s either me or May.”

“I think I choose May.”

“I wasn’t being serious, kid. Put the mask on and let’s go. You’re dealing with me today.”

At one point, Peter would have been ecstatic to hang out with Mr. Stark. Now it felt like punishment. Especially since it was going to be a scolding about how disappointed he is in him. That hurt worse than getting shot. 

Reluctantly, Peter put back on his mask, waiting for Tony to suit up and carry him upstate. As embarrassing as it might be, Peter could admit to himself - and only himself - that Mr. Stark’s assistance was very much needed. 

And that maybe he should have let Karen call him two hours ago.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and sadness ahead :( but at least this chapter features the one and only Tony Stark :)

Peter had been in the Avengers Compound once before, but he had never got to wander more than a few hallways in.

He had never expected that one day, he would wander more than a few halls, past bedrooms and even be let inside Tony Stark’s personal lab.

For a moment, Peter had been so awestruck by it all, he had forgotten all about the bullet in his arm or what had even happened hours ago. 

Overall, this place was pretty amazing. 

“Have a seat,” Tony said, gesturing around the room. “Anywhere will do. But preferably not my leather couches by the TV. Those are imported.”

Of course they were. 

Peter ended up sitting down on a barstool near Tony’s workbench, watching the man in question as he dug around his cabinets for something.

“Here we go.” Tony pulled out a rather large first aid kit, and Peter couldn’t help but snicker. “What?” Tony asked, whirling on him. “What’s so funny?” 

“Do you have a whole hospital’s worth of instruments in that thing? I didn’t even know they made first aid kits that big.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Laugh all you want but next time you get injured, don’t come to me expecting to use my resources to patch you up.” He opened the kit, grabbing the few supplies he needed to extract a bullet. “Besides, when you don’t have inhuman qualities-” he shot a look at Peter- “and you’re in this line of business, you tend to get hurt. And need to know how to patch yourself up. Otherwise, you would rack up quite the medical bill. Even though it would be almost nothing for  _ me  _ to pay.”

“Then I guess you can pay for my trip to the hospital next time I get hurt,” Peter said, eyeing the tools in Tony’s hand as he approached him.

Tony pulled up his own stool beside Peter, setting his instruments down on the table nearby. “There won’t ever be a hospital bill for you, as you won’t ever need to go to one.”

“You plan of fixing me up each time I get hurt?” Peter asked.

“No. But I forbid you from going to hospitals.”

Peter laughed. “Forbid me? Who are  _ you _ ?”

“Tony Stark, in case that teeny brain of yours forgot. And I rather not have to come to your aide and makeup long excuses and fill out paperwork for as to why your DNA isn’t normal. I don’t have that kind of time. And you’ll be on government radar, and trust me, no one wants that.”

As much as Peter could agree with the latter of that statement, he couldn’t quite accept the rest of it. Either way, he let it go. 

“Take off your suit,” Tony said. “I want to be able to see what I’m working with. And I’ll need to fix the hole in it. Actually, scratch that, I need to fix the whole thing.”

Peter arched a brow. “Why?”

“Because if this suit can’t richochet one bullet, then it’s not good enough. I must have gotten something wrong when I made it. Now take off the suit. Or the sleeve parts of it anyway.”

Peter obeyed, slipping out of the arms. Blood had trickled further down than he realized, most of it dried and pink. The blood around the wound, however, had become cakey and deep red. It wasn’t pleasant to look at by any means. 

“This will probably hurt,” Tony warned, looking at Peter’s face for any sort of reaction. When there was none, he picked up his larger than normal tweezers, slowly prodding at the wound.

Peter grit his teeth. The squelching sound the tweezers made inside his flesh sounded horrible. “Shit,” he breathed.

“Hey, we don’t talk like that around here,” Tony scolded. 

“As if,” Peter scoffed, pressing his lips into a thin line shortly after to keep from crying out. 

“We don’t.” Tony felt the tweezers prod the bullet, and he carefully let them open and pinch around the metal.

“I bet if I asked Friday to roll some audio clips, she would have more then two hundred to play. Hey, Fri-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, and, Friday, don’t you dare listen to anything this boy has to say.” He glared at Peter.  _ Smart boy.  _

“On it, boss,” Friday replied.

Peter pouted. “You’re uncool.”

“I am not  _ uncool.  _ I’m very cool. In fact, I’m the coolest person in the world. I even have an award that states as much.” Tony had never been called “uncool” before. Especially not by some tiny teenager. 

“It’s a pity award.”

Tony pulled out the bullet with a sickening squelch. He dropped it onto the table, setting the tweezers down beside it. “I don’t get pity awards, Parker. I only get awards I deserve. And the cool award was one of them.”

“You know, the more you call yourself cool, the less cool you become,” Peter informed.

“All you do is talk,” Tony remarked, getting out of his seat and heading over to the sink on the other side of the room. He reached down below it, grabbing a rag. “If you’re going to blab, make it worth my time.” He soaked the cloth in warm water, walking back over to Peter. “In fact, you are going to have plenty of time to talk. Because I have questions for you and they’re  _ all  _ getting answered.” He handed Peter the wet rag. “Clean up your arm and come upstairs. We need to have a chat.” 

~ 

Tony lent Peter a tee shirt and some pants, being that the only thing Peter had on hm was his now damaged Spider-Man suit. Peter had to admit, these clothes were far better than the last pair Mr. Stark gave him. The oversized “I survived my trip to New York” tee and pajama pants didn’t quite suit him.

Peter cleaned the blood off his arm and around the wound, finding that it had already begun healing itself now that the bullet was out. The worst thing that could happen now was it leaving behind a tiny scar since he had waited so long to get it out. 

Friday assisted Peter in getting him where he needed to go, despite Peter pestering her. 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to interact with me,” Peter had said, walking along the halls.

“I am fulfilling Mr. Stark’s request. That is all,” she replied.

“Mmhmm, I’ll find a way around his words, Fri. Don’t you worry. Karen will help me.”

“That is unlikely. But thank you, Peter.” 

And here Mr. Stark was saying his AI’s don’t have feelings. 

Friday led him to what appeared to be a big living room, complete with a bar. It was sleek yet simple, making it feel like home. 

A second home, anyway.

“There you are, kid. Did you get your arm taken care of?” Tony asked, pouring himself a drink at the bar. 

“I did. Thank you for helping me, sir.”

Tony waved his hand. “It’s no big deal. Sit down. We need to talk.”

Peter bit his lip. “Is this going to take long? Because I told May I would-”

“Be back by dinner? Sure you did, kid. Here’s the thing,” Tony began, having a seat on the couch across from Peter. “I hear you barely eat and don’t seem to be sleeping much at night.” 

Peter stared back at him. “What makes you think that?”

“I had a little chat with your aunt this morning after you went to school. She’s worried about you. And frankly, now I am, too.” 

The blood drained from Peter’s face. “Why were you at my house?” 

“To talk to your aunt. Didn’t you just hear a word I said?” Tony asked. “And sit down. You’re making me anxious.”

Peter reluctantly sat down, but he didn’t bother getting comfy. “I’m fine. I just . . . need time to do normal things. Move on from . . . from what happened,” he explained. 

“Normal things would be eating. And sleeping.” Tony took a sip of his drink. “Both things you’re not doing a whole lot of. Normal things also consist of going to school - and staying there all day,” he added before Peter could refute. “And,” Tony continued, as if he hadn’t already said enough, “normal for  _ you  _ is not freezing up in the middle of a robbery and getting shot.” 

Peter winced. As if he needed a reminder that he grew cold feet while being Spider-Man. That’s just what people needed to see. “How do you know that’s even what happened?” Peter grumbled.

“When I saw you on the  _ news, _ ” Tony said slowly, “I decided to have Friday hack into the security cameras at the bank to see why you looked so haggard walking out the front doors. It’s not very Spider-Man like to walk out the front doors, looking like a victim and not so much as giving one of the cameras a pose.” 

Damn. Was he really that predictable? “I didn’t know I was on the news,” he said lamely, followed by, “and why did you wait two hours before showing up on that rooftop?”

“It was a robbery, kid. Of course it was going to be on the news. What isn’t these days?” He chugged the rest of his drink, slamming the glass down on the coffee table in front of him. “And I waited so long, because it took two hours for your condition to be bad enough that your AI sent me a notification about it.”

Tony leaned forwards, looking Peter in the eye. “Now tell me. What is going on in that head of yours?” 

“A lot,” Peter admitted pretty easily. 

“Care to explain?”

“Not really.”

“Well to bad,” Tony said a bit too harshly. “I’m not an idiot, kid. I know PTSD when I see it, and trust me, I’ve had plenty of experience with that. Still do. The thing is, I’m not going to let you make the same mistakes I did and not get help.”

Peter gave him a funny look. “I’m fine, Mr. Stark. I don’t need - or want - help.”

“This isn’t optional,” Tony said, standing up from the couch. “Until you get help to deal with whatever is going on inside you right now, you’re done being Spider-Man.” 

Great. Another grounding from Tony Stark. Just what Peter wanted to hear. “You can take away my suit, Mr. Stark, but you can’t take away my powers. Or my will. I can still be Spider-Man.” 

“Oh, I know,” Tony said, walking back towards the bar. “I learned that the last time I took away your suit.”

Oookay? “So what’s different about this time?”

“This time,” Tony said, pouring another glass of scotch, “it’s not a punishment.”

Peter’s brows pinched together. “Huh?”

“It’s a break.”

That was the last thing Peter expected to hear. “A . . . break.”

“Yes.” 

Peter wasn’t following. “I don’t need your suit to be Spider-Man. You taught me that.”

“Right again,” Tony said, drinking half of his glass in one go. Was this conversation really so hard for him to have? Did he really need that much alcohol in his system to get through it? 

“So what’s your point?” Peter asked.

“My point, is that you don’t have to be Spider-Man just because you think you need to be.” He thought about what he just said, deciding to back track. “That didn’t make sense, but I know what I mean. What’s important is that you take it easy. And I mean that, kid. The war is over. We fought the good fight. Paid the price for it and all that great stuff. Now, you can just  _ breathe,  _ Pete. Hang out with your nerd friends. Hang out with your hot aunt. I don’t care what you do, as long as you deal with those thoughts inside your head. Don’t let them get the best of you.” 

What Tony wanted to say, but couldn’t quite find the right words for it, is now that he took away Peter’s suit, the kid wouldn’t have to force himself to wear it out and “fight crime,” as he liked to put it. If he didn’t want to, now he had the perfect excuse as to why he  _ couldn’t.  _ Not because it scared the living shit out of him currently to face near death situations, but if he wanted, he could say that Tony Stark took away his suit. And no one would think twice about it. 

“I’m-”

“If you say ‘fine’ I swear I am going to hit you upside the head,” Tony threatened. 

Peter deflated. 

“I know you’re not fine. Your aunt knows your not fine. Now quit lying to yourself and telling yourself you fine when you’re not. You’ll only hurt yourself more than you already have.” 

Peter knew Tony was a smart guy, but he never thought he would hear something like this from him. It made him feel . . . inspired almost. But the thoughts in his head were too dark and too present to actually let Tony’s words sink in.

“I don’t want to see you like this, kid. Watching you . . . Right there on Titan,” he said, clearly avoiding saying anything about dying. “Knowing there was nothing I could do to save you . . .”

“We don’t have to talk about this, Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly. 

“And that right there is the problem,” Tony said, pointing a finger at Peter. “Not talking. I have gone far too many years not talking and it messed me up, kid. I won’t watch you walk down the same path I did. You’re far too young to have these issues. Remember when I said don’t do anything I would do? This applies.” 

Peter wanted to ask when Tony wanted to be so involved with his daily life, but he suppressed the question. Things had changed since Peter walked in the front door of his home and saw May chatting it up with Tony freaking Stark. He wasn’t that same fifteen year old kid who fought crime in Queens in his homemade suit. He fought in a  _ war.  _ He helped save the world, even if it cost a tremendous sacrifice to do so. 

“So until you are ready,” Tony said, wrapping up this conversation, “you are going to be Peter Parker. Spider-Man is going off the radar for a while.” 

Surprisingly, Peter found himself okay with that. “Fine.”

“Maybe this once you will listen to me and see how right I am.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” 

Tony shot him a look. “Sometimes I really wonder if I was this horrible as a teenager and maybe that’s why my dad didn’t like me.” He rested his elbows on the table, pressing his fingers to his temples. 

Peter knew talking about Tony’s dad was an extremely sensitive topic, so he instead said, “Don’t pretend you don’t like me, Mr. Stark. Even if I am a  _ horrible teenager _ .” 

“Go home,” Tony said. “Eat, sleep, hang out with you aunt. And for the love of God, go to school tomorrow. And stay there. All day,” he added. “Or at the very least,  _ try  _ to stay there for longer than one class period.” 

Peter gave him a lazy salute. “Yes, sir.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Bye, kid.” He swiped his glass of the table, taking it out of the room with him. 

“How am I supposed to get home now?” Peter muttered.

“Boss has a car arranged for you out front,” Friday informed. 

Peter pursed his lips. “How nice of him to tell me.” 

“It must have slipped his mind,” Friday replied. “Boss is under a lot of stress recently. It happens.” 

Tony? Stressed? Not exactly an uncommon thing for him, but hearing it from Friday made Peter wonder . . . What could Tony Stark be stressed about now? Thanos is gone and so is any imminent threat to Earth, so why was  _ he  _ so worried?

Why was Peter so worried?

If it’s all in the past and said and done, then why can’t Peter go to school? Or eat a whole meal? Or sleep for longer than two hours a night? Or be Spider-Man? 

With a sigh, Peter got up and trudged out of the room and through the compound. He supposed that just because the physical threat was gone, the emotional was not. And that maybe the war left a few ghosts behind to haunt everyone. 

Suddenly, Peter understood why Tony didn’t like including him in on much. 

Because once the war is over, it’s not really over. 

He got into the car that was waiting for him out front, finding that the sun was already mostly set in the sky. He used to like sitting on fire escapes of tall buildings in the evenings, watching as the sun dipped below the city. But now he didn’t like it so much. The orange of the sun cast a golden glow on the world, reminding him all too much of Titan. 

So instead of looking out the car window at the day ending, he slunked down in his seat and closed his eyes. And for the first time since he had . . . woken up, he wished he had a cell phone to keep him busy. 

Maybe he  _ should  _ have talked more to Mr. Stark. 

But Peter didn’t feel quite ready to talk about that day. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be. 

~

“I promised you last time we would go out to eat, so that’s what we are going to do,” May announced when Peter opened the front door to their apartment. He didn’t have time to argue as she said, “Get changed into something that’s - your own clothes?” She tilted her head, looking at Peter’s shirt. “That’s not yours, is it?”

Peter shook his head. “No. It’s Mr. Stark’s.”

“Um . . . Why are you wearing Mr. Stark’s clothes?” 

Uh oh. Now he’s made a mistake. “He, uh . . .” It wasn’t much of a secret anymore that he was Spider-Man, considering May had found him dressed in his suit one evening after school in his bedroom, but even so, once they talked about it that night and the day after, neither of them mentioned it again. It was like an unspoken rule between the two to pretend as if Spider-Man didn’t exist. He also didn’t want to tell May he had been  _ shot  _ and that Tony needed his suit to repair it from where the bullet had penetrated. 

“If it’s an  . . . Avenger’s thing, I rather not know,” May said. 

Oh thank God. An easy way out. “Yeah. It’s an Avenger’s thing.” Peter didn’t miss the frown that appeared on her face. 

“Okay, well, just go get changed and let’s get some dinner, yeah?” 

Peter wasted no time rushing to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He let out a big breath, slouching against the door. Was it always going to be like this? Would May ever accept the spider half of Peter?

Instead of standing there, dwelling on his thoughts, he chucked off his shirt and searched for another, changing his pants as well. He tossed Tony’s clothes onto his bed, making a mental note to return them next time he saw the man. 

Once he was ready, he met May in the living room and they headed out to their favorite Thai restaurant down the street. They sat at their usual table and ordered the same things they always did.

_ This is nice,  _ Peter thought.  _ This is normal.  _

May chatted to him about literally anything that wasn’t related to the past few weeks, and Peter found himself forgetting all about the war and what happened. He even  _ laughed  _ a few times. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed May until now. 

Maybe Tony was actually right. Maybe not being Spider-Man for a while and just being Peter Parker was what he needed. He needed May. He needed his friends and the decathlon team and -

The angry phone calls from Mr. Stark, telling him not to do something stupid. 

Yeah, he needed those.

~

When him and May got back to the apartment, they watched a movie and called it a night as soon as it ended. 

Peter didn’t realize just how tired he was until his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. The thirty minute nap in the car on the way home from the compound didn’t do much for him in terms of rest. But it got him through the rest of the night with May, and that’s all he could have asked for. 

~ 

_ Seeing Thanos face to face was worse than just hearing his name. _

_ Big, bulky, and  _ purple,  _ the man who dared called himself a God could crush Peter with just a look.  _

_ Peter wished he would have, rather than keeping him pinned down, hand around his throat, pressing into the hard, rocky surface of Titan.  _

_ All the air had escaped Peter’s lungs as he fought in Thanos’s grasp, desperately trying to escape and just  _ breathe,  _ but even with Peter’s enhanced strength that could hold up a terminal at an airport, he was no match for the man on a quest to purge the world. _

_ Peter felt exactly what he looked like - a bug struggling under the weight of a boot. Thanos’s hand wasn’t letting up, and he was going to die - die right here on this planet from being choked to death. _

_ But suddenly a weight crashed into the man, sending him flying off of Peter, and finally - finally - _

Peter woke with a large intake of breath, coughing on the air that filled his lungs. He was wheezing, trying to calm his racing heart and shaky hands, taking in the air that was all around him. He was fine. He was here. He was alive. 

Sweat clung to the curls of his hair, dripping onto his skin. He rolled off his bed on shaky legs, walking over to his window and throwing it open, letting the air dance along his sweat slicked skin.

He didn’t even bother looking back at the clock on his nightstand. He had no desire to count the few hours he had of sleep. It couldn’t have been much, considering the sky was still as black as it was when he went to sleep, no hints of the sun on the horizon.

Peter stood at his window for a while, just looking out at the city. He couldn’t help but wonder what it looked like while he was gone. How . . . empty it was. 

He backed away from his window, leaving it open so the air could filter through his room. He sat back down on his bed, running his hands down his face. What was he supposed to do for the rest of the night? Sleep was clearly out of the question.

Looking around his room, he spotted the familiar red and blue fabric of his old Spider-Man suit. Not the pajamas he used to run around in, but the first one Tony Stark had made him - the one before the Iron Spider suit. 

He got up and retrieved it, holding it between his fingers. He dropped the body part of it, holding onto his mask. He slipped it over his head, watching everything come online.

“Hello, Peter,” Karen’s familiar voice greeted. 

Peter breathed out a steady sigh. “Hey, Karen.” 

“Are you feeling better this evening?” she asked.

“I’m-” Peter paused, thinking about his words. How many times had he said “fine” these past few days? Tony said he wasn’t fine, and Peter sure didn’t feel fine, but he didn’t want others to believe he wasn’t. So he always said he was. “I’m . . . I don’t know,” he admitted. “Not fine.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by, “Adequate sleep would most likely cure the way you physically feel. Talking to someone about what’s on your mind would most likely cure the way you feel mentally. Shall I pull up a list of doctors in the area to talk to?”

Peter snorted softly. “No. No doctors. I don’t need a shrink.” Besides, it’s not like he could just waltz in the office and tell a doctor he is Spider-Man and died on another planet but was resurrected and now he doesn’t feel quite whole or the same. 

“You should try sleeping, then,” Karen suggested.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” 

“Sorry, Peter. I don’t have any more suggestions or solutions in my database to fix this problem. But I’m sure Mr. Stark would have some to offer, if you would like to give him a call.”

“Um, no, I’m good.” He lied back down on his bed, keeping the mask on. “Do you have any solutions for keeping nightmares away?” he asked quietly. 

“Hmm, there are medications that could possibly prevent the occurence of dreams, though they cannot be purchased just anywhere. Another solution is a dream catcher.”

Peter didn’t think a homemade dream catcher would quite literally catch his bad dreams and let him sleep. “So I guess there is none.”

He let out a sigh. How was he ever going to sleep again? Knowing there were nightmares and memories filling his dreams each time he let his eyes slip closed?

Maybe if he let all his memories of that day come back to him, his brain would have nothing left to show him and then he could finally sleep.

Yeah, that’s it. He could hang on for a while longer. He could let the nightmares run their course and  _ then  _ he would get to sleep each night again.

He just hoped that there wasn’t much more for his brain to show. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more nightmares for you :( And dad tony!! 
> 
> Also, updates may be a little slower for a while as I work A LOT this week and I'm trying to convince my family to let me get a new dog, so that's a process. So far I've managed to update every other day, but now it may be every few days. Hope you don't mind :)

A part of Peter knew school was going to be a nightmare, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it until he was sitting behind the desk, head resting in his hands. It was an effort to not let his eyes slip shut for longer than ten seconds. The last thing he wanted was to fall asleep and dream in  _ school.  _

“Are you actually going to stay for the whole day this time?” Ned asked, scribbling something on the paper in front of him. 

Peter let out a loose breath. “That’s the plan.” Tony would kill him if he left school again without even trying to make it through the day. Peter didn’t want another scolding from the guy. Not yet. 

“Well, if you make it to lunch,” Ned began, “remind me to show you the limited edition battleship I found on Ebay. I was thinking we could get it and do it on a weekend or something.”

The idea of hanging out with Ned and doing something they normally would brought peace to Peter’s thoughts. “Yeah, that sounds good, man.” 

A smile spread across Ned’s face. “Awesome.” 

The rest of the class droned on, making it even worse that the teacher lectured nearly the whole time, and expected everyone to take notes. This did nothing to keep Peter awake, and when he closed his eyes for longer than he meant to, images flashed through his mind.

_ Tony getting stabbed. _

_ The feeling of death setting in Peter’s gut. _

_ Getting the Gauntlet of Thanos, only to have everything go wrong in the blink of an eye. _

Peter’s head snapped up with a start. He jerked in his chair so quickly, it jarred the kids around him. “Sorry,” he muttered, blinking quickly.

“Mr. Parker?” the teacher called from the front of the room. “If I’m boring you that much, perhaps the principal’s office would be more entertaining?” 

A few kids snicked.

“No, no - I just - I haven’t gotten much sleep in a few days. Nothing against your class.” Even though this class - History - tended to be boring as hell on normal days, he wasn’t about to tell his teacher that. 

“Hmm. Sure. Stay awake and pay attention.” He turned around and continued lecturing, letting Peter off the hook this once.

Ned glanced over at Peter. “Dude, when was the last time you slept?” 

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I got about two hours last night.”

“And the nights before?” Ned asked.

“Roughly the same,” Peter admitted reluctantly.

Ned gaped at him. “I’m no doctor, but I think that’s unhealthy.” 

There was no doubt about that. For someone who had enhanced abilities and enhanced healing, and hadn’t been sick since before the spider bite, Peter sure felt like hell. His head felt ten times heavier than it should, and that feeling in his gut was more prominent than ever. Not to mention he felt slow and sluggish, and his spidey reflexes weren’t as quick and accurate as they should be. 

“Maybe you  _ should  _ skip some days of school,” Ned continued when Peter didn’t respond. “I can bring you all your work so you don’t fall even more behind than you already are.”

Peter shook his head. “I have to stay. Mr. Stark will kill me if I keep skipping school.” 

Ned rolled his eyes. “Who does that dude think he is? He acts like he’s your Aunt May or something.” 

Peter held back a laugh. “May is more chill than he is. She encouraged me to skip school.” 

“Really? May?”

“Yes!” 

“Parker! Leeds!” the teacher shouted. “I will have no more interruptions. Leeds, this is your first warning. Parker, however, go to the office. I’m trying to teach.” 

Great. Peter just hoped May wouldn’t hear about this. And he sure hoped that if there was some way of Mr. Stark finding out about this . . . that he didn’t. Peter gathered his things and did the walk of shame to the front of the classroom. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he stepped through the door and shut it quietly behind him.

For a moment, he debated on just leaving school, rather than going to the principal’s office. But the aftermath of skipping another school day was probably far worse than just going to the principal’s office and getting a detention at most, so he went with the latter and trudged to the front of the school where the principal was waiting.

The only good thing that came out of his trip to the office was the fact that he looked so beaten up and exhausted, the principal sent him to the nurse’s office rather than giving him a detention.

“Your health is important, Peter. If there’s anything going on at home, now is the time to speak up about it,” the principal had said.

“There’s no issues at home,” Peter assured. “I’m just having a hard time sleeping.” 

So then he was sent to the nurse’s office to get looked at and possibly take a nap. Any other time, Peter wouldn’t let a medical professional near him - not unless Mr. Stark said it was okay. He couldn’t afford anyone knowing about his different DNA. However, the nurse at the school was just a common nurse who sent kids back to class with either a pack of crackers for a stomach ache, or a bag of ice wrapped in a brown paper towel for sore limbs. She never actually took blood or looked at anything that could possibly give away Peter’s spidey DNA.

He sat in the chair in front of the nurse’s office, waiting to be called back. He started to nod off in the chair when the door opened and she popped her head out, asking for him to follow her. 

“What seems to be troubling you, Peter?” she asked as she closed the door to her office. “You aren’t looking too hot.”

Peter shrugged. “I haven’t been sleeping a whole lot, I guess.”

She nodded in understanding. “Is it stress? Do you have too much schoolwork? Maybe we can find a way to lessen your studies for the time being.” 

Peter shook his head. “It’s not school. I don’t know what it is.” He couldn’t quite tell her he had nightmares of him and his friends dying each night. Or nearly dying. On another planet. 

“Could it be the events that unfolded a few weeks ago in the city? I know a lot of students came back to school scared,” she informed.

“No, I wasn’t . . . in town for that.” Not for all of it, anyway. 

“Hmm, well, the only thing I can advise for you at the moment is to take a few days off from school and try to get some rest. We won’t fault you for it. There are still some students who haven’t returned yet. We can have your work sent to your house.” 

Peter wasn’t sure if that’s what he wanted. He  _ wanted  _ to be here, at school, and be normal like everyone else. Why was that so hard to do? It was easier before. “I want to be here. I’m fine. I’ll just . . . go to bed early tonight.” Easier said than done. 

“If you’re sure . . .” the nurse trailed off.

“I’m sure.” 

“Do you want to try and take a nap here?” she asked him.

The idea of a nap sounded amazing, but not if he was going to have nightmares in such a public place. He didn’t need anyone else knowing about them. May was enough. “No. I can make it through the day.”

“Alright,” the nurse replied, her tone indicating that she didn’t quite believe him. “But if you feel like you can’t, you are always welcome to come back here. Or we can call home.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, ready to make his way out the door before she could say anything else. 

The phone on her desk rang, and she went to answer it as Peter was leaving the room. However, before he could make it out the door, the nurse called out, “Peter, wait!” 

Peter stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at the nurse. “Yeah?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” the nurse said into the phone, hanging it up shortly after. “Someone is in the office waiting for you. Your presence is required there.” 

Someone was here for him? “Who?”

“I wasn’t told. Just that that they’re waiting for you.” 

“Okay, thanks.” Peter waved to the nurse and left her office, easily spotting the person dressed in all black behind the office windows in the lobby. “Great,” he muttered.   

He tried to slink his way along the wall before he was seen, but Happy Hogan’s gaze landed on Peter immediately, as if he knew what he was trying to do. A frown rested on his face (which wasn’t uncommon in the slightest) and he gestured for Peter with two fingers. 

With a sigh, Peter trudged over to the office doors, greeting Happy in the lobby. “Hey,” Peter said, trying to keep the confusion out of his voice. 

“Boss wants to see you,” Happy said, wasting no time getting to the point. “Let’s go.”

“What? Now? I’m at school! And it’s only the morning. I told him I would stay here all day.” 

Happy shrugged. “He changed his mind I guess. I don’t question him. Come on, I have a million other things to do today.” 

Peter followed behind him reluctantly. “Why does he want to see me?”

“I don’t know,” Happy grumbled, opening the car door for Peter when they got outside to the curb it was parked at. 

“How do you not know? How do you work for someone and not question  _ anything  _ they say? That’s like-”

“Kid,” Happy interrupted, holding up a hand. “Please, stop. You’ll give me a headache.”

Peter mumbled under his breath, sliding into the back seat of the car. He watched Happy walk around and get into the driver’s seat. “I’m only saying-”

“It’s Tony Stark, kid. I trust that man with my life. And if he says do something, then I do it, no  questions asked, because I trust him. You should try listening to him sometime. I know that’s hard for you, but Tony knows what he’s talking about.” Happy started up the car, stepping on the gas and speeding off the school grounds. 

Peter slumped down in the back seat of the car. Why would Tony want to see him in the middle of the school day? After he told Peter not to ditch, no less? 

Unless this was an emergency.

Oh no. Peter wasn’t sure he was ready for anything . . . superhero-esque. Not after the incident yesterday with the bank. He couldn’t afford to freeze up again, and if he did, then-

“Kid?” Happy asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror. “Are you alright back there?” 

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m fine.” 

Happy gave him a look of  _ I don’t believe you.  _ “Then why are you acting like you can’t breathe right?” 

Was he not breathing normally? Was it that obvious? “Just . . . Uh . . .” What was he supposed to say? He was nervous? He doesn’t get nervous going to the compound. If he did, they would have noticed by now. 

Happy sighed. “Boss just wants to have a talk with you. Mainly about . . . whatever it is you have going on in the backseat of my car right now.” 

Panicking? He was going to have a talk with him about being nervous? 

“Relax, kid. Tony had me pull you out of school because your friend thought it was okay to contact him and tell him that you’re not doing too hot.” 

Ned tattled on him!? “Why couldn’t it wait until after school?” Peter asked instead. He was going to have a serious chat with Ned later.

“We weren’t sure you were going to make it to the end of the day.”

Peter raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“When was the last time you slept?” Happy asked, looking back at him. “And don’t lie. Well, you can lie to  _ me,  _ but if you try lying to Tony, good luck. Friday will scan you and be able to tell when you last got a full rest.”

Now that Peter thought about it, when  _ was  _ the last time he actually slept longer than two hours at night? “I  . . . don’t know the last time I slept,” he admitted sheepishly. 

Happy made a choked noise from the front seat of the car. “You can’t remember the last time you slept? At all?” 

“I slept for two hours last night.” 

“Christ, kid,” Happy breathed. “Why didn’t you say anything? You know we could have helped.” 

Peter shrugged. He never thought he would have this kind of conversation with  _ Happy.  _ “If I sleep, then I have . . . memories. Or nightmares. Or both. Whatever they are. They’re not . . . pleasant to relive. So I just don’t sleep so I don’t have to see them.” 

Happy let out a low whistle. “You should have told Tony about this.”

“He’s not the easiest guy to talk to,” Peter replied. “And I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m already enough of one to him. You know, since I never listen to what he says and all that.” 

“As true as the not listening part goes,” Tony’s voice chimed in out of nowhere, startling Peter, “the rest of it is false. Don’t assume things, Parker. You know what they say about assuming.”

Peter was too stunned to reply to his comment. Instead, he said, “You were listening this whole time!?” 

“Well, yeah,” Tony answered. “It’s my car. With my tech in it. I had Friday tap into the speakers and let me listen to audio.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or impressed. “Why couldn’t you just wait until I was at the compound to listen to what I had to say?” 

“Because, one, you weren’t going to tell me the same thing you told Happy just now, and, two, now we can jump straight to the solution of getting you some uninterrupted sleep, rather than wasting hours of our time bickering about post war.” 

This was ridiculous. Peter slumped down in his seat. “I don’t need more sleep, I’m doing just fine now.” 

“Grumpy and irritable,” Tony mused to himself. “I would blame that on your teenager status, but lack of sleep is probably the one to blame.”

Peter wanted to retort, but he couldn’t find it in himself to talk back. He was  _ not  _ grumpy and irritable. 

“Stew silently all you want, kid, but when you get to this compound, you are getting some sleep and then we are having a serious talk on why you can never tell an adult about your issues.”

Peter ignored him, and didn’t dare glance at Happy, either. For all he knew, Tony probably had hidden cameras in the car, too. 

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Peter looked out the window at the trees as they drove by, and before he knew it, they were crossing the gates to the Avenger’s compound upstate. He remembered the drive being longer than this. 

Happy pulled up to the front of the building, shifting the car into park. “Tony’s waiting for you. Friday will show you the way inside.” 

“Thanks,” Peter muttered, climbing out of the car. He debated on just making a run for it, but decided against it. Without his webshooters, Tony could catch him easily in his Iron Man suit. On foot, definitely not, but that man always had access to his suit at a second’s notice, and Peter making a run for it would take him no time to suit up and catch him before he could get far. 

He trudged inside the building, finding people bustling about. Sometimes he came here and the place was practically empty. Other times, it was teeming with life. 

“Hello, Peter,” Friday’s voice greeted. “Shall I take you to Boss?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have free will, Peter,” Friday informed. “However, listening to what Boss has to say will benefit you greatly instead of if you run away.” 

With a sigh, Peter sagged his shoulders. “Fine. Take me to him.”

Friday led him far away from the lobby of the building, close to the back and up three floors. It was dead silent in this section of the building, making Peter wonder why no one was over here. 

Shortly after, Peter opened a door down the hall of the third floor that Friday instructed him to go through, and found a small lab of sorts, with Tony Stark sitting on a leather couch in the far, back corner. This lab was definitely smaller than the one Peter was in yesterday, when Tony removed the bullet from his arm. 

Without looking up from his phone, Tony said, “Have a seat up there, kid.” He jerked his head toward the medical table in the center of the room.

Peter stared at it. “Why?”

This time, Tony looked up from his phone, his brows raised over his sunglasses. “Because I said to? Why do you quite literally have to question everything I say to you?” 

Peter dropped his backpack on the floor, walking over to the medical table and hopping up on it. 

“That’s better,” Tony remarked. He put away his phone and stood up, stretching his limbs. “Like I told you in the car, you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to sleep,” Peter told him. 

“You may not  _ want  _ to, but you  _ need  _ to, kid. Your body won’t function right without it, and you’re not, exactly, a normal teenager these days. Your spidey DNA makes you different, and that means you need more sleep than the average teenager if you want your senses to work properly.” 

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m not Spider-Man, remember? I’m Peter Parker for now.” 

Tony looked at him. “You can’t be one without the other, Pete,” Tony said quietly. “You don’t  _ have  _ to be Spider-Man to be Peter Parker, but you at least need to take care of that half to  _ be  _ Peter Parker. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Peter nodded once. 

“Peter Parker is the kid who goes to school everyday and aces every test and quiz. And he does his homework like the nerd he is.”

Peter shot him a look. “I imagine you did your homework too since you went to MIT.” 

Tony shrugged. “Maybe so, but people didn’t call me a nerd.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Mr. Stark.”

“Anyway, the Peter Parker that’s been walking around town these past couple of days  _ isn’t  _ Peter Parker. He is a ghost of Peter Parker. And I won’t sit here and watch you be haunted for the rest of your life. You are too young for this, as I told you the other night.” Tony walked over to one of the cabinets and dug through its contents. 

Peter watched as Tony dug around for something, and he couldn’t help but ask, “What about you?”

Tony paused. “What about me?” 

“Why do you get to be haunted by what happened?” 

Well  _ that  _ certainly wasn’t what Tony was expecting. He pulled the vial out of the cabinet, clutching it tightly in his hands. “I’m allowed to be burdened, kid. I’m old. I’ve lived life burden free until these past few years. But I’ve also learned from my  _ mistakes.  _ The things I’ve done and the things I’ve seen . . . I’ve learned to live with them. Because if you let the past weigh you down, you’ll sink further and further and drown. And then you’ll never be the same.” 

Peter swallowed thickly. “I’ve already drowned, Mr. Stark.” His eyes glazed over. “I’m not the same.” 

“And you never will be,” Tony added. “So instead of letting those things change you for the  _ worse,  _ you have to grab them in you fist and let them change you for the  _ better.  _ You still have a lot of growing up to do. You’re still young. Don’t let the events with Thanos ruin you. If you let them, then he wins. Even though he’s gone, he will still win if you let him destroy you even now.” He reached for a syringe on the nearby tray.

Peter watched him closely as he grabbed a needle and filled the syringe with a mysterious, blue liquid. “What is that?” 

“The thing that’s going to make you sleep,” Tony answered.

“I’m not sure I want to be poked with a needle and injected with something that’s going to knock me out,” Peter said nervously. “Besides, how do you even know that’s going to work? My metabolism will-”

“Not burn it off, because this stuff is strong enough to put the Incredible Hulk down. I imagine it can handle your puny body and freakish DNA.” 

Peter frowned. “I am not puny.” 

“Compared to the Hulk, you are. Compared to anyone on the Avenger’s team, really.”

A hint of a smile formed on Peter’s lips. “I am stronger than you, Mr. Stark. I can break your fingers  in my fist.” 

Tony looked up at him in surprise. “Alright, alright. You’re enhanced strength doesn’t scare  _ me,  _ kid, but I rather not receive idle threats from a fifteen year old about having my bones broken. So, if you will lay down, it’s time for bed.” 

“It’s only eleven in the morning!” Peter whined. “What if I sleep longer than when school lets out? May will-”

His words were cut off by a sharp poke in his upper arm. He looked down and saw the blue liquid from the syringe entering his body, with Tony’s finger on the plunger, pushing it in. 

“Hot Stuff will be contacted and informed that you are here doing work for me,” Tony said, removing the needle from Peter’s arm. 

Peter glared at Tony. He felt woozy in the head, swaying slightly on the table. “I don’t . . . I don’t want to sleep, Mr. Stark. Please don’t make me sleep.” 

Tony steadied Peter, helping him lay down on the bed. “You need it, kid. I’m sorry.” 

Peter shook his head, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to see Titan. I don’t want to watch you die. I don’t want to die again. Please, Mr. Stark, don’t . . . don’t do this to me.” 

How did the kid always manage to make Tony feel so guilty? “You won’t dream, Pete. Your body will be too exhausted to show you any. And if you somehow manage to dream, it’s all in the past, okay? I’m alive,  _ you’re  _ alive. Thanos is gone and we are never going to see Titan again, you got that?” 

Peter nodded, his eyes drooping closed. 

“And while you’re sleeping, I’ll think of what I’m going to say to you about this in a way that won’t scream ‘I’m going to kick your ass.’” Tony walked over to the couch, grabbing a blanket that was resting on the arm. He unfolded it and tossed it over Peter. “The lab gets a little cold when I turn the lights off.” 

As badly as Peter’s body tried to pull him under, he held on to reality. He kept fighting, until his body couldn’t take it anymore. He let out a heavy sigh, letting his eyes fall closed for good. He was vaguely aware of the lights overhead turning off and Tony leaving the room, but he supposed none of that was important. 

All he could hope for now was a dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard for me to write because it makes me really sad :( it may be the shortest chapter here, but it's the most emotional. I wanted to make it longer, since it barely reached 3k words, but there was nothing left to add in this leg. I hope you enjoy :) See you with another chapter soon! 
> 
> There's panic attacks in this chapter :/
> 
> p.s. sorry if there's typos. When I get into the writing zone, my fingers tend to hardly ever lift off my keyboard. My mind tells the story quicker than my fingers can type.

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a dimly lit room. He blinked a few times and sat up, looking around. 

He was at the compound. Right. 

He glanced over at the window, noticing that the sun had fully gone down and the sky was a deep shade of blue, transitioning into night.

Peter yawned. He hadn’t felt this great in . . . in  _ days.  _ His eyelids weren’t heavy and his head felt clear. In fact, he felt brand new. Like he did when he discovered his spidey powers.

“Good evening, Peter,” Friday greeted. “I am to send an alert to boss when you woke.”

Oh, crap. The talk with Tony. Peter was  _ not  _ looking forward to that. “Do you have to?”

“I’m afraid so. Alerting Mr. Stark.” 

Peter sighed. He better enjoy the peace while it lasts. He supposed that at  _ least  _ he was well rested and had enough energy to deal with the storm that was undoubtedly about to occur. 

The door to the lab opened moments later, the lights overhead brightening. Tony Stark waltzed in, his eyes landing on Peter. “Ah, Mr. Parker.”

“Ah, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied. 

Tony frowned. “So you get a little rest and now you think you can mock me?” He clicked his tongue. “You teens know no respect.” 

Peter refrained from gaping. Instead, he said, “Thank you for . . . whatever it was that put me to sleep.” 

“At least you have manners,” Tony mumbled. “It was no problem, kid. Now, we can either talk in here, or we can go down to the living space and talk there. Either way, this conversation is happening.” 

“Can it happen on not a school night?” Peter asked.

Tony shot him a look. “No. It’s happening now. Get up and let’s go.” 

Peter couldn’t care less if it happened on a school night. Ninety percent of his school nights were spent out patrolling rather than sleeping anyway. He was just trying to find some excuse to prolong this conversation. 

Reluctantly, Peter swung his legs off the bed and hopped down. For once they didn’t feel weak and shaky, and he couldn’t quite believe how much the lack of sleep affected him. Having enhanced abilities may make him able to last longer, but they didn’t make him invincible. Or immune to these kinds of things.

He followed Tony to the living area he mentioned, and plopped down on the couch. He had a feeling this was going to take a while, so he might as well make himself comfy. Peter was half expecting Mr. Stark to make himself a drink, but to his surprise, Tony left the bar alone, and sat down on the couch across from Peter. 

Tony stared at the kid, unsure of where to start. “Tell me why.”

Ooookay. “Tell you why what?”

“Tell me why you didn’t tell anyone about your insomnia issues. Tell me why you didn’t tell anyone about your nightmares. Tell me why you thought it was okay to keep all of this to yourself and  _ suffer,  _ rather than tell an adult who could help you?” 

Peter pursed his lips. “That’s a lot of stuff to tell.” 

“Good thing we have all night. And don’t give me some excuse about May. She already knows you’re here and, frankly, she agrees that this is what you need,” Tony informed.

“A therapy session?” 

“Yes!” Tony boomed. “I may not be a professional, but I’m as professional as it gets when it comes to space travel and other lifeforms. So, in other words, I am qualified to talk about this kind of thing.” Tony leaned back into the couch. Peter hadn’t even told him anything yet and he was already getting stressed out. This was going to be fantastic.

Peter swallowed the thick lump in his throat. There was no avoiding this conversation, yet he had the strong urge to do anything -  _ anything -  _ to get out of it. “Look, Mr. Stark,” Peter began, “I know you think it will be good for me to talk about what happened, but-”

“It is a good thing, Peter,” Tony said flatly. “Bottling it up is unhealthy.”

“Okay, but I just . . . I don’t think . . .” Peter took a deep breath, trying to prevent himself from panicking. “I’m not sure I can talk about Titan just yet.” His heart hammered loudly, and he thanked God that he was the only one who could hear it. 

Out of every excuse Tony was expecting the kid to say, this wasn’t one of them. “What do you mean?”

_ Inhale, exhale.  _ “Thinking about Titan . . . I get this feeling in my chest and . . . it hurts, Mr. Stark. It  _ hurts.  _ I can’t . . . I can’t breathe and it-”

“Alright, Pete. It’s alright. I know exactly what you’re feeling right now and I just need you to relax, okay? Breathe in and out.” 

It was easier said than done, but Peter managed to get some oxygen filtering though is lungs. His chest still ached and his heart still raced, but at least he could breathe.

Tony fidgeted in his seat. He wanted to get up and comfort the kid, but he knew from his own panic attacks that touches from another person did anything but help. “There you go, kid. Just keep doing that.” Tony felt a little guilty that he caused Peter to have a panic attack like that, but he never would have guessed the kid would actually have them. He shouldn’t even  _ be  _ having them. 

“I’m . . . sorry,” Peter breathed out. 

“Don’t be. Not for one second. You can’t control that sort of thing. Trust me, I know,” Tony said. It had been quite a while since he had a full on attack like Peter did, but the anxiety was still there. He remembers feeling it that day he flew the spaceship on Titan and crashed it. “Anxiety is a bitch. But this is exactly why I wanted you to talk to me. Open up. Get it all off your chest.”

Peter looked up at him. “How am I supposed to talk about something when that very something causes me not to breathe? When it hurts to even say the words in my head or talk about the things I saw? I  _ felt?”  _

Tony’s face paled at Peter’s last words. “I know it’s hard,” Tony said slowly. “But talking  _ does  _ help. Once you get it all out there once, it gets easier. It’s not something we have to talk about always. Just getting through it that first time is what’s hardest.” Not only that, but Tony didn’t  _ want  _ to talk about it always. Of course he and Peter had been on the same planet and experienced nearly the same events, up until Thanos stabbed Tony and went to Earth to get the last stone. But the things they  _ felt  _ were completely different. 

Peter shook his head quickly. “The nightmares are enough to remind me why I don’t want to talk about it. At least in my sleep, they are contained. Speaking them out loud makes them . . . makes me . . .” 

_ Vulnerable. Weak.  _

_ A kid who doesn’t know how to deal with trauma.  _

Tony had a feeling he knew what Peter was going to say, but he didn’t push. “Acknowledging it makes you strong, kid. You’re facing your fears. You’re facing what happened and what can’t be undone. Acting like you can ignore it and live a normal life is foolish.” 

“Let me guess.  _ Trust me, I know?  _ What don’t you know at this point, Mr. Stark?” 

A chuckle escaped Tony’s throat, despite the circumstances. “Very few things, kid. Very few things. But I know everything you’re feeling because I once felt this too. As much as I hate to even admit such a thing to you, let alone out loud, you and I are one and the same. We both seem to have this desperate need to prove ourselves and be the best we can be, and it’s ultimately our greatest flaw.” 

Peter stared at him, shocked. “Tony Stark admitted he has  _ flaws?” _

“And, unfortunately, we both use humor to cover up serious matters,” Tony replied with a frown. 

Well shit. Maybe Peter was like Tony more than he previously thought. 

“I just . . .” Tony started. “I want you to be able to talk to someone, Peter. Anyone. It doesn’t even have to be me. We are so alike and yet . . . I don’t want you to be like me. I want you to be better. You have a lot of potential and I don’t want to see you fall down into the void at such a young age.” 

Peter wasn’t so sure he hadn’t already fallen into the void. Maybe the rest of him was waiting to catch up. After all, there was always that feeling deep inside him like something wasn’t right. Like he wasn’t wholly there. Maybe the rest of it is in that void. Or lost in wherever he went when he died.

“And,” Tony continued, “you are the only one out of the ones we know who . . .  _ felt  _ it.” He didn’t have to specify what  _ it  _ was. 

Peter’s throat went dry. “It’s . . . not a feeling I can forget,” Peter said carefully. “Not now that I remember.” 

Tony wanted to ask Peter to elaborate, but thought better that he wait for Peter to say it on his own time, on his own terms. However, he didn’t actually expect the kid to say anything  _ now.  _

“It felt like my insides quit working,” Peter said, staring at the ground. “Like suddenly my lungs were working, and then someone pulled one out, followed by the other. But that other part of me - the part that makes me Spider-Man, tried to fix it. But I think that only made it worse.” 

Tony thought that was it, and nearly asked Peter to stop, because Tony could barely handle the boy recounting what happened. It hurt him to know the pain Peter was in when he stumbled and fell into his arms. But Peter barreled on.

“And then my legs . . . they felt tingly. They felt . . .  _ thin.  _ It was like my bones had shrunk and I had no muscle and I couldn’t stand anymore.” Tears pooled in Peter’s eyes, slowly making their way down his face. “It’s like when a TV gets bad reception and there’s no signal and it’s all static. That’s what it felt like, but in my legs.” Peter closed his eyes, wishing the tears would go away. “And then I started to disappear. Slowly. While everyone else got to go instantly and painlessly. But I didn’t. I felt it coming and couldn’t do anything to stop it.” Peter glanced up at Tony. “Do you know what it’s like to know you’re dying and can’t even  _ try  _ to stop it? You can get shot, stabbed, thrown twenty feet - whatever, and  _ feel  _ like you  _ could  _ be dying and probably are but you can at least dig out a bullet, stitch up a stab wound, and put ice on some bruises to ease the pain, but there is nothing -  _ nothing -  _ you can do when you’re being wiped from existence by the very things that were created at the dawn of time. I had to lay there and just  _ take it.”  _

It felt like all the oxygen in the room had been swept out the window. Tony wasn’t sure he was breathing, and he didn’t know how the hell Peter was able to say all that without taking a break or even breaking down.

“And each time I try to  _ sleep,”  _ Peter continued, “I relive it over and over again. And if it’s not my death, it’s  _ yours.  _ If the only way to move on from it is to not sleep and see it constantly replay in my head, then so be it.” He let out a big breath. His limbs were shaky, though he wasn’t sure if that was from panic or adrenaline. Or maybe it was both. 

Tony wished he could tell Peter there’s a fix for the nightmares. That he could sleep and not see them. But if there was a cure for that, Tony would have found it by now. Hell, he still gets nightmares from the day the aliens invaded New York because of Loki. And that was  _ ages  _ ago. But what Peter saw and experienced . . . that was far worse than some aliens attacking the city. Tony  _ nearly  _ died whereas Peter  _ did  _ die. And the kid  _ felt  _ it. 

Silence hung heavy in the air. Peter was breathing hard, while Tony was barely breathing. Tony had held the kid in his arms as he died, and that was painful enough to witness. He never thought it felt as horrible as Peter described, and now he felt even more guilty for letting something like that happen to him. It was his fault Peter was going through any of this anyway. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Tony said, “I’m sorry, Pete.” 

That was the last thing Peter expected to hear from him. And it also made him confused. “What for?” 

“Everything. The only reason any of this is happening to you is because of me. Because I was so desperate to stop Steve back in Germany, that I got a fifteen year old kid involved. And now look what’s happened. I caused you to  _ die,  _ kid. Right in my arms, I watched it.” Tony put his head in his hands. “And you can deny it all you want, but if it weren’t for me, these nightmares wouldn’t exist. You would be at home with your aunt, where you should be, going back to school like the rest of your friends.” 

Peter hadn’t thought about that. Not really. What he  _ had  _ thought about, however, was the fact that if it weren’t for Mr. Stark, he would have died anyway. Just not . . . “Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I was Spider-Man before you found me. And if the choice of who died when Thanos snapped his fingers was random, I probably still would have been picked anyway. And I still would have felt it. You didn’t give me this DNA. So it’s not even your fault. If anything, you’ve prevented a lot more by coming to me and  _ wanting  _ my help. You even gave me a super awesome suit! I’m sure it’s saved my life more times than I even realize. Before Thanos,” he added. 

“And,” he continued, “if I was going to die anyway from the random selection, I would have rather it been with you.”

Tony looked up between his fingers. Why in the hell did this kid admire him so much? All he’s done is cause problems for Peter. “Why, kid? What difference does it make?”

Peter looked away nervously. “Because . . . You would have remembered me.” 

_ I hope they remember you,  _ Thanos had said to Tony. 

“A lot of people disappeared that day, Mr. Stark. How could one, single person possibly remember everyone that was lost? If you died,  _ everyone  _ would have remembered you. You’re Tony Stark! If I died, only May would remember me. And Ned. If they weren’t chosen too, that is. I’m not anyone special.”

That hurt Tony’s heart. “You’re Spider-Man, kid. That makes you pretty special.”

Peter scoffed, waving his hands in the air as he said, “But only people in Queens know about Spider-Man. And you. The whole world knows about Tony Stark. But whether they know you as the genius Tony Stark or the Iron Man Tony Stark . . . everyone still knows you as something more than who you are. Most people know me as Peter Parker. What’s so special about him?”

“A lot, kid,” Tony said, hands sliding down his face. “You’re smart. A genius, practically. You saved Strange’s life on that spaceship. By being  _ you.  _ Do you remember that?”

“Kind of. It’s not one of the highlights in my dreams.” 

“You saved his life because you watch movies. Movies!  Half of the Avengers don’t even have time to watch a movie  _ because  _ of who they are. They let their identities and their personal lives combine into one until they are who the world says they are.  _ You,  _ however, get to have two lives!” Tony stood up off the couch, pacing around the living room. “You get to be Peter Parker  _ and  _ Spider-Man. I don’t know of any vigilante or S.H.I.E.L.D agent or Avenger who can accomplish such a thing. I think that makes you pretty damn special for being able to pick and choose when you want to have a normal life. Even if you mostly choose not to.” 

A small smile appeared on Peter’s lips. “Normal is boring.”

“Normal is safe,” Tony corrected. “Most of the time,” he then added. Getting back on subject, Tony said, “The point is, you don’t have to be Spider-Man to be memorable. Even if you weren’t with me on Titan, kid, I would have remembered you. I can hardly forget some chatterbox teen who fangirls over every spectacular thing like you’ve never left the house before.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “I do not fangirl.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Peter slumped down in his seat. “Thanks for not forgetting me, Mr. Stark,” he said quietly. “Thank you for . . .” Tears slid down his cheeks silently. “Thank you for not giving up on me.” 

Tony walked over to where Peter sat, resting a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Anytime, Peter. Anytime.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I have had a few people come to me and say there are plot holes in this story and I'm well aware but ... guys ... I am no novelist. I am a 21 year old who writes fanfic in my bedroom ... like ... cut me some slack okay I do this for fun! I mostly tend to write scenes I want to see or scenes I see in my head but they don't always match with the underlying story and though I do try my best to fill in plot holes, sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth. I like to focus on our main characters, rather than supporting characters (which is where my many plot holes occur in this story) . I'm not too worried about every tiny detail connecting and making sense. This isn't going to be a published novel! This is just for fun and something to have to tie us over until the next Avengers film :)


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